


Broken Bonds

by rebelrsr



Series: Bondsverse [5]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Dom/sub, F/F, Flogging, Punishment, Soul Bond, Vampire Slayer(s), Vampires, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 09:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 71,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelrsr/pseuds/rebelrsr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a serial killer in Boston. What happens when Boston’s finest partner with the Slayers Council’s best operatives?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Special thanks to Xanthe for creating the Dom/sub universe. I’ve borrowed liberally for this. If you aren’t familiar with Xanthe… Every person is born a Dominant, submissive, or switch. That means the vanilla world is pretty much missing. In this society, it is common for submissives to be collared, sexually teased, or punished in public – and in the workplace. 
> 
> A/N2: To make this even more complicated, the premise behind this story is an amalgam of fic requests from the Glee_Kink_Meme (without any of the Glee). For this fic, keep in mind that everyone has a soul mate picked by Fate and with whom they share a telepathic and empathic bond. This bond can be broken with traumatic results. Those whose bond is broken are known as the Forsaken.

Eyes burning with exhaustion, Cat peered at the white board at the front of the conference room. They were missing something. They had to be. Five glossy pictures; five victims. All from different sections of the city. All different ages, races, genders... To give her mind a break, Cat leaned her head back and focused on the quiet - yet intense - discussion going on across the table. It was probably supposed to be private, but voices carried in the nearly empty room this late at night.

“You’re kidding me, right, Frankie? _Ma?_ ” Detective Rizzoli’s voice rose in disbelief.

Her brother, Officer Francesco Rizzoli, was a little more restrained. Cat actually had to work at making out his reply. “I’m tellin’ you, Janie. Ma’s seeing someone. Did you look at her this morning? Lipstick. She had on lipstick. And she was wearing a new dress.”

For the first time in what felt like years, Cat had to fight a smile. She needed to check out Ma Rizzoli. Jane Rizzoli was one of the best detectives she’d ever worked with. It would be interesting to see if Jane had overlooked some sign of love in the air that the brash and impetuous Frankie had noticed. Cat sat up and looked at the cluttered conference table. Files, more files, legal pads, stale coffee in Styrofoam cups, and who-knew-how-old pizza. Score. She snagged a piece, ignoring the congealed grease and questionable topping selection (was that pineapple?) and took a bite. At least she wouldn’t be tired _and_ hungry. The only thing that could make the night better was more coffee. Good coffee, not the crap they’d been drinking from the machine down the hall.

“Doing a coffee run,” she announced, interrupting the ongoing argument over Ma Rizzoli’s dating status. “Want anything?”

Both Rizzolis looked up. “I’m good.” Jane grimaced. “Well, I could mainline caffeine right now, but Maura’s been on a health kick lately. Only herbal tea.”

“And the fifteen empty cups over there,” Frankie pointed at the cups on the far end of the table, “all belong to Korsak. Right.” He rolled his eyes. “You might want to clean that up before Maura sees them. If I can tell you’re lyin’, I’d hate to be you when she shows up.” His grin was malicious for an instant before snapping back to his usually goofy expression. “Biggest white chocolate mocha they have, with as much whipped cream and sprinkles as possible.” He dug in his pocket for his wallet, but Cat waved him off.

“You get the next round.” At the rate this case was going, they’d have plenty of time to pay each other back dozens of times over. Sliding her arms into her leather jacket, Cat hurried from the room. Movement was necessary. She’d been sitting in this one room since noon. A little of her exhaustion faded with the exertion, and the frigid air helped. She shrugged a little deeper into the warmth of the jacket and listened to the snow crunch under her boots. The all-night coffee shop was a couple of blocks away. Cat enjoyed being alone. The task force was full of good cops, good people. But Cat was a loner, and their constant chatter and the reminder of what they had - and what she didn’t - took its toll.

Unfortunately, the trip was too short to really help much. Cat saw the bright lights of the coffee shop ahead. As she dodged another couple of late night walkers, huddled close and faces obscured in shadow, Cat overhear one of them say, “I keep telling you, sweetie, life would be a simpler if you...” The soft voice floated on the cold air as the pair continued down the sidewalk.

Cat chuckled. That was a Dominant, despite the gentle teasing and soft tone. The poor sub was definitely getting a lecture. She reached for the door handle right as a sudden wave of vertigo hit. Her foot slipped in the slushy snow and ice in the doorway, and the night spun crazily. Cat flushed hot then shivered. The pizza from the conference room threatened to make a reappearance. “What the fuck!” She kept her feet by sheer will, hanging onto the door until her balance returned. When Cat thought it was safe to move again, she pushed weakly until the door came open and she stumbled into the warm shop.

She must be more tired than she’d thought. She’d nearly face planted on the sidewalk. Wouldn’t that be something to explain to the paramedics? Not to mention Doc Blaylock would have a field day if it ever got back to him. She’d be stuck with individual and group sessions every day, not just the once a month minimum she got away with now. That would be a fate worse than death.

_***_

By the time, Cat stepped back out of the coffee shop with her cardboard carrier of coffee, the last of the dizziness had faded. All that was left was an odd pressure behind her eyes and a static-y buzz in her head. Considering she’d been working for over sixteen hours, she was in fabulous health.   
  
She didn’t linger during the return trip. Maybe the coffee run had been enough to give her a new perspective on old evidence. Cat didn’t really believe that; it just sounded good.   
  
Voices spilled out of the conference room when she reentered the bullpen. “We consulted with two detectives, _Slayer_ detectives. Why did your Council decide to send you?” Jane sounded defensive. No cop liked a federal agency stepping in, and the Slayers’ Council was the worst of the bunch. Secretive. Convinced of its superiority. If the Council had sent in heavy hitters, their case had been hijacked.  
  
Cat shifted her grip on the cardboard holder. She’d say her hellos, drop off the coffee, and head home for a couple of hours. The mystical muscleheads could take over the research. She was tired, and she really didn’t feel up to the inevitable posturing. Her skin suddenly tingled, like she’d touched a live electrical circuit.   
  
“Don’t go gettin’ your gunbelt in a twist,” a new voice answered Jane.  
  
That voice. Oh, God. Cat knew that voice. She’d heard it every night, shared whispered secrets and dreams with it. Tears filled her eyes in direct contrast to the surge of excitement that sent her bounding for the doorway.  
  
 _Faith_. Her mind reached out, needing to feel Faith for the first time in fifteen years. She couldn’t get to the conference room fast enough. In fact, everyone looked at Cat with varying degrees of amusement or shock as she burst through the door and skidded to a halt.

Faith.

She had to be the well-built brunette. Faith the Slayer. Cat shivered and licked her lips. Wow. Just... wow. She wanted to say something suave or funny. But her mind was blank.

Blank.

There was nothing in her head. No thoughts. Not hers. Not Faith’s. Just a terrible, echoing silence. The same silence Cat had heard and railed against for nearly half her life.

“You didn’t have to run back. Frankie would’ve survived another ten minutes without his chocolate and sugar fix,” Jane said. The humor was muted by the searching look she gave Cat. It was a look that indicated she knew something was wrong, and she was determined to figure out what.

That could never happen. If Jane knew, she’d have to report it. And Cat would lose what little happiness she’d managed to carve out of life. Although, staring at Faith, trying to come to terms with the fact that Faith clearly didn’t know her, didn’t remember their bond... “You really think I’d put myself out there for your brother?” Surprisingly, Cat’s voice sounded completely normal instead of strangled by the spinning ball of razor blades in her throat. “Come on, Rizzoli. I ran because it’s fucking freezing out there.”

As Cat moved closer to the table, she was aware of being two very separate emotional entities.

On the surface, she was Detective Cat McClearen. A competent if sarcastic member of the Boston Blood Sucker Taskforce. A cop worn around the edges from too many late nights and too many years alone. Deep inside, Cat was also an older version of the twelve-year old girl she’d once been, screaming and begging for her bondmate to come back. To forgive her for whatever she’d done to send her away. The girl who’d spent a year hospitalized and on suicide watch.

Detective Cat set the coffee on the table and held out a hand to Faith. “Cat McClearen, detective from C6. I’m on loan for the taskforce.”

Oops. Maybe Cat wasn’t as functional as she’d thought. Faith’s eyes widened slightly and flickered toward the woman standing next to her. Out of the corner of her eye, Cat saw Jane stiffen. And that’s when Cat noticed the delicate platinum collar around Faith’s neck. Cat dropped her hand and heard Young Cat sobbing in her head. Pivoting slowly, Cat dropped her head and eyes in a show of submission. “My apologies, Ma’am,” she murmured to Faith’s Dominant. “I meant no disrespect.” With her eyes down, she could better see the matching platinum Dominant marker on the woman’s left wrist.   
  
Faith was a sub? That didn’t make sense. Cat was a sub, and two subs never formed a bond. What if this wasn’t _her_ Faith? Had the break in their bond done this? Turned Faith into something she wasn’t supposed to be? Cat’s thoughts ping ponged wildly.

Cat wanted to look up. To examine Faith more closely. To find answers. She didn’t, though. One breach of protocol, nearly touching a collared submissive without permission, was enough for tonight.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Detective McClearen.” Faith’s Dominant moved closer. “I’m Tara Maclay.” Cat watched the Domme’s feet, clad in clunky combat boots, and the hems of her bell-bottomed jeans. She could feel the weight of Tara’s stare and forced herself not to shift anxiously. 

As an unbonded sub, Cat was subject to judicial punishment from the Department’s Discipline Officer. One word from the other woman – or anyone in the room… Cat made like a statue.

The boots stayed planted in Cat’s line of sight only for a moment before walking away. “Show us the evidence you have so far, Detective. Faith and I aren’t used to working with traditional law enforcement. Faith’s more of a specialist for the Council.”

Cat waited for Jane, the lead detective on the case, to step in.

“Detective McClearen?” Gentle laughter edged Tara’s voice. “It’s OK to move. It’s going to be hard to show the evidence from over there.”

Very slowly, just in case she had misunderstood, Cat relaxed her posture and looked up. Tara stood in front of the whiteboard watching Cat with a half-smile. Fine. She was fine. “I can give you the basics,” she said. “But Jane’s your best bet for information. She’s been working the case from the beginning.” When Tara didn’t look away, Cat understood. Tara wanted Cat to provide the information. “There are five victims,” she continued at Tara’s unspoken order.

“Rachel Morton. White, thirty years old. Killed October 31 and left in Hatch Shell.” Letting the familiarity of the case wash over her, Cat relayed all of the relevant information and finished with the same thought she’d had earlier. “We’re missing something; I just can’t figure out what.”

“Huh.” One little grunt from Faith made the hairs on Cat’s arms stand up.

She shivered convulsively and tried to disguise it by finally wresting the coffee cups from the holder. The heat burned her hands and helped to ground her a little.

“Me and T are gonna need to see the crime scenes.” Faith wandered up to the board and peered at the photos. “Slayers and witches can see things you might miss. Maybe what you’re missin’ is the fact the perp’s a demon.”

Jane snorted. “I may not be as special as you, but even I know demons and vampires come out at night. Maura is sure at least two of the victims were killed during daylight hours.” Cat didn’t need to glance in Jane’s direction to know she was glaring at Faith. “There’s nothing that says we need help from the Slayers’ Council.”

Faith and Tara shared an amused glance. “Please, Detective,” Tara said. “I know you don’t like what you think is interference, but we’re here to help. Not take over. Sometimes we just provide a new perspective.” Tara was very pretty, Cat thought, when she smiled. “And we’re used to boring research. All of you look like you’ve been here for days. We’d be more than happy to look through the case file while you get some rest. Wouldn’t we, Faith?”

It was clear Faith did _not_ agree. However, she was well trained. Her lips twisted in a poor approximation of a smile. “Right.”

A mini standoff started. Jane dropped into a chair and crossed her arms. She didn’t _quite_ glare at Tara. She was smarter than that. Locking eyes with a Dominant, even if they weren’t _your_ Dominant, was a bad idea

For her part, Tara didn’t push for Jane’s agreement. She simply picked up a couple of files and gave one to Faith, who sighed and dropped into a cross-legged pose on the floor. Tara took the chair next to Faith.

When Faith’s head tilted to lean against Tara’s knee, Cat knew she had to leave. She had to leave _right now_. Her chest ached. There was a growing hollow spot where her heart had once been. Her bonded Dominant sat on the floor in submission to someone else. Her Faith. The husky, teasing voice that had warded off loneliness and fear when she was eight. The solid presence that had been with Cat every step of the way for four years.

If she didn’t leave, Cat was afraid of what might happen. Unreasoning hatred for Tara swelled until it choked her. And on its heels was desolation so deep, her hands ached to pull her gun from its holster and turn it on herself.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Ostensibly, Cat directed her words to Tara, the only Dominant in the room. She didn’t want to address Tara, though. Never Tara. Cat spoke to Jane as the lead detective on the case.

Jane shook her head. “Come on, Cat. We can’t just leave them here.” She didn’t clarify if that was because she thought they should help Tara and Faith or if she simply didn’t trust them with the evidence.

Whatever the truth, Cat didn’t care. “I’m tired. It’s late. Maybe Tara’s right. Maybe we do need new eyes.” Without another word, Cat spun on her heel and hurried from the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Cat didn’t register the cold this time. She strode down the sidewalk just shy of a sprint. Thoughts whirled through her mind without pausing long enough for her to grasp them. Snippets of long-ago conversations with Faith through their bond mixed with images from the conference room.

_“What’s wrong, little cat?” Faith’s voice was a soft caress, and Cat closed her eyes and let it wrap around her. “I can feel you thinkin’ too hard.”_

_Cat didn’t want to talk about her day. Or why she was thinking too hard. “Why do we always talk about me? We never talk about you. I don’t even know where you live. Where do you live, Faith?”_

_“Ah, Cat. That ain’t important.” For a second, Cat thought Faith was going to go away and she panicked. “Hey, don’t do that. I’m still here. I’ll always be here, remember? We’re bonded. You belong to me, little cat, and don’t you forget it.”_

“I haven’t, Faith,” Cat whispered to that long-ago Faith. “I remember everything.” But Faith didn’t. Faith hadn’t recognized her. Faith hadn’t kept her promise. The dark street blurred and Cat swiped impatiently at her eyes. Crying hadn’t solved any problem, ever.

Nothing would ever help her. Maybe she could forget for a few hours, though. She just needed some space. A chance to get her feelings under control.

Pausing under a streetlight, Cat looked for a cab. There were usually a few cruising near the station house.

***

Cat shoved two twenties into the cabbie’s hand. “We’re good,” she told him, too intent on entering the club to care that she’d grossly overpaid for the ride. Without waiting for his response to her generosity, she jogged across the sidewalk.

The lingering snow was lit by the pulsing red neon lights of the sign over the door. “9th Circle” flashed in deep crimson, highlighted by the flicker of faux flames wrapped around the pitchfork underneath. There was no line outside this late. Nor were there groups clustered just inside when Cat opened the door. A single bouncer took Cat’s cover charge and waved her inside, and she detoured long enough to secure her gun in the locker she maintained in the women’s changing room.

The open club room was nearly pitch. Sullen red lights leaked from covered lanterns spaced at intervals along the wall. Choking odors of sulphur and sex wafted through the air. It was familiar yet not comforting. It wasn’t designed to be. Cat scanned the recesses where private tables and sitting areas provided views of the public play areas. Most of them were empty. It was very late. Most club members would be upstairs in the rentable suites or home enjoying their partners for the night. The only men and women left were as desperate as Cat.

Desperate meant dangerous. Dominants and submissives with nothing left to lose because they’d already lost everything.

Taking off her jacket, Cat made a show of turning back the right sleeve of her shirt. The red leather cuff on her wrist, the mark of one whose bond had been broken, was easier to see now. It was an open invitation to any Dominant in the room – and it didn’t take long for them to approach.

Cat waved the first off before he even got close. No men. Not even now.

The next Dominant, though… Short, slender, muscled. Her eyes spoke of the same pain Cat endured. It would be enough. It had to be enough, for tonight at least. Cat dropped to her knees and bowed her head. “Mistress,” she said, just loud enough to be heard over the soundtrack of whip cracks and lightening playing in the room.

She had barely registered the hard concrete under her knees when the Domme grabbed Cat by the hair and pulled her to her feet. With shoves and a few sharp slaps, Cat was driven to a chain station at the very center of the club room. Even better. No privacy meant no real talking. No chance to exchange life’s horror stories and form even a remote connection with her Mistress for the night.

“Strip,” the woman ordered.

Cat had done this often enough that she didn’t hesitate. Not even the gathering crowd kept her from quickly removing her clothes and tossing them onto the floor near the Domme.

The woman took a few seconds to examine Cat closely before she moved Cat into position. Cat kept her eyes lowered as her wrists were buckled into lined leather cuffs. She didn’t object as those cuffs were attached to the chains dangling from the ceiling.

A few cranks of the pulley wheel had Cat balancing on the balls of her feet. She waited there as the Dominant retrieved a toy bag from underneath a table. Even in the dark club, Cat recognized a deerskin flogger and a short snake whip, and her skin twitched in anticipation.

The toys went on a low table next to Cat’s position, and the Domme returned to Cat. Warm hands ran over her shoulders, traced her spine. They moved around to her front, pinching and pulling at her nipples. It hurt. Cat arched into the pain. Pain was good. Pain pushed the memories away.

This time, though, it didn’t work. Her body betrayed her. There was no soft, hazy subspace. No rhythm of pain and pleasure to hide in. She felt the woman pause. God, she’d realized there was a problem. Cat cursed; she couldn’t let this slip away. Pretending an arousal she didn’t feel, Cat let her head drop back. Groaned for effect. “Mistress, please…”

The woman still hesitated. Her touch gentled. No! That wasn’t what Cat wanted or needed tonight. Rolling her shoulders so the chains rattled, Cat looked over her shoulder and deliberately met the Domme’s eyes.  She challenged the woman silently even as she used the little leverage provided by her feet to move away from the tender touches. A raise of an eyebrow, a twist of her lips. Without a single word, Cat mocked the Domme’s instinctive knowledge that Cat wasn’t in the right headspace to play.

The woman’s lips tightened noticeably, and she stepped back. The flogger came off the table and moved sinuously through the air. Cat closed her eyes, listening to the soft sound of leather pattering against the concrete floor. The first blow was so light that it felt like a massage. One, two, three, four… Each strand hit in a steady, separate pattern. That pattern, and the predictable movement from right shoulder, left shoulder, right buttock, left buttock sucked at Cat. The Domme was good - just not quite good enough to force Cat over the edge. Cat pressed back into the flogger. She willed her mind to let go.

Instead, it kept churning. She remembered.

_Tara’s hand stroked Faith’s hair lightly before she opened the case file on her lap. Slender fingers. They’d lifted the slight curls in Faith’s hair, teased at her scalp. And Faith had responded. She’d nuzzled her cheek into Tara’s knee._

Cat snapped back to the present as the Domme added more force to the flogger. Her skin began to burn now. A sunburn spreading from shoulders to upper thighs. She writhed against the chains. God, it _hurt_. She’d never done this without being in subspace, without finding a connection with the Dominant. By now, she should be flying high on endorphins, pain mixing with pleasure as she and the Domme worked together to meet their respective needs. Give and take.

It wasn’t happening tonight. Probably not ever again. Faith was _here_ , in Boston. In Cat’s life; although, not in the role she’d imagined. All of Cat’s hope was gone. She couldn’t pretend that the woman behind her was Faith they way she had for the last fifteen years. Faith was real. Unfortunately, Faith was with Tara.

The pain inside matched and then outstripped the pain in Cat’s back. The snake whip couldn’t hold a candle to giving up on her dreams. Cat quit struggling. She slumped in the chains accepting the whipping – and the pain. This scene was toxic. Rather than end it, though, Cat decided that someone should get what she needed tonight. The Domme laying careful stripes up and down her back was hurting, too. No one came to the Ninth Circle without their own emotional baggage.

Giving a series of breathy moans, Cat mimicked arousal. “More, Mistress. Please.”

The Domme didn’t immediately respond to Cat’s plea. The whip actually stopped, and Cat whimpered as the woman pressed close to her back. Rough leather scraped along the raised welts and bruises. “You mark beautifully, girl.” Tracing along Cat’s jaw, the Domme stroked and caressed her breasts and stomach. Two fingers tugged Cat’s pubic hair. “Do you really want more? You’ve already taken more than most subs here. We never discussed limits.”

Tears threatened. Ah, God. This Domme wasn’t doing what Cat expected. She was paying attention, making sure she took care of Cat’s needs. “I’m fine, Mistress. Just…no blood or permanent marks,” Cat whispered through trembling lips. “Nothing that will show outside of my clothes tomorrow.”

“Your safeword is ‘red”, girl. Use it if I go too far.” The Domme kissed and then licked Cat’s shoulder before she moved away. The next time she swung the whip, Cat bit her lips to hold in her scream. Fire blazed with each new mark. Her world narrowed until only the agony remained. Time had no meaning. The scene could have continued an hour or a year. Cat couldn’t tell. She also didn’t register when the whipping stopped until the Domme kissed her. She’d shed her vest and shirt; her pants were open and shoved down muscled thighs.

One of the Domme’s hands reached for Cat’s pussy. “No, Mistress.” There was no way the Domme would miss her lack of real arousal. “Please. Let me take care of you first.” Cat nipped at the woman’s lips and tongue; thrust her hips out to press into the woman’s crotch.  “Let me down, Mistress. Let me make you feel good.”

She thought she might have pushed too hard when the Domme stepped away. “No. We do this my way, girl.” The whip cracked, catching Cat painfully on the thigh before the woman tossed the braided leather away. She walked behind Cat and pulled her hips back. Cat obligingly tightened her ass muscles as the woman rubbed and thrust into her. Cat felt the slickness of the Domme’s arousal coat her skin and timed her counterthrusts for maximum effect.

In seconds, the woman groaned and shuddered. She leaned into Cat for a moment as Cat hung in her chains.

“Mistress, would you please let me down?” Cat needed to go. This scene had done nothing more than leave her hurting and even more aware of having no “place” where she belonged.

“What about you?” Again, the Domme won points for wanting to care for Cat.

It just wasn’t what Cat needed. “Couldn’t you tell, Mistress?” Cat struggled with the lie. It was so wrong and broke the rules of honesty and trust that were the hallmark of Dom/sub relationships. “I came when you did.”

By the time she was free and redressed, Cat wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. And sleep a little. She had to be back at the station house in a few hours. Right now, Cat couldn’t spot a clue if it was tied up in a neat bow. No matter what else happened in life, the Job would still be there in the morning. Being a detective was all Cat had left now.

Another cab ride got her home. Cat left her clothes in a pile on the floor and stepped into the shower. The odor of the club and the memory of the woman thrusting against her lingered in Cat’s mind. A hot shower helped even if it made her skin burn more. She finally climbed into bed, tired in both mind and body.

***

Cat’s cell phone buzzed, and she reached out to grab it from the nightstand. “McClearen,” she mumbled.

“Time to get up, Sleeping Beauty.” Korsak sounded grim. “We’ve got another body in front of St. Peter’s church in your old stomping grounds. Frost and I are on the way to pick you up. We’ll be there in ten.”

The line went dead. Cat stared at the phone for a minute before pulling herself out of bed. Last night had been a monumental mistake. Her body was one big ache. The skin on her back pulled with every breath. The pressure of her bra on the battered flesh was torture, and even the brush of her softest polo shirt was like sandpaper.

Cat downed four Advil and four Tylenol with a glass of orange juice. She’d live.


	3. Chapter 3

The crime scene was swarming with cops. Korsak steered his car through a maze of parked cruisers, news vans, and crime scene vehicles to park right in the large, partially enclosed lot next to St. Peter’s Church. Wooden sawhorses created a hastily-erected barricade across the street, where residents of the nearby townhouses stood to watch the activity.

Cat slid out of the car but didn’t follow Frost and Korsak toward the body. She’d walked a beat in this area back in her patrol days. It was a tightly knit community. More than that, townhouses lined the street just across from the church. Large windows in each unit looked down on the front entrance. Surely someone would have noticed a person (or persons) carrying a dead body down the street. 

Giving a last look at the crowd, Cat walked up to the church. “McClearen. Back from the big leagues?” Sergeant Byrne smirked and marked her name off on his clipboard. “I didn’t think we’d see you again now that you’ve had a taste of life Downtown.”

“Nah. You know I don’t dazzle like that.” Cat winked as she ducked stiffly under the yellow crime scene tape. “This is home. Always will be. Too much politics Downtown. Don’t think I want to spend all my time ass up over a punishment bench ‘cause I insulted some VIP.”

His laughter followed her up the front steps to join the rest of the taskforce inside the church. Korsak and Frost were interviewing the parish priest in the entryway. Cat nodded to them as she skirted a sobbing woman sitting on a bench and continued into the long, narrow nave. The real action was at the front of the church, where the pews gave way to long, low steps leading to the altar.

The body sprawled gracelessly on those steps. Blood covered the carpeted treads and risers. Maura Isles had center stage with the corpse. Everyone else, including a glowering Faith, stood to one side. “What have we got so far?” she asked Jane in a low voice.

“Looks the same as the others. Maybe.” Jane rubbed a hand over her eyes. “Maura doesn’t _guess,_ though _._ ” It was a long-standing source of frustration between them, Cat knew. “So I can only say it looks like another vampire attack. Bite marks in the throat. Blood everywhere.”

“Not a vamp,” Faith disagreed. She pointed at the body. “You can see from here, the bite ain’t right. The marks are too perfect. Vamps drink straight from the wound so it leaves this tear pattern. More like a dog bite than what Hollywood says.”

Following her finger, Cat noticed two perfect puncture wounds. Vampire bite marks according to every vampire movie she’d ever seen. “Isn’t there too much blood?” Having Faith so close… Cat wanted to impress her. Wanted to show she was worthy of Faith. It was pathetic, yet Cat couldn’t resist. “I thought vampires drained their victims.”

“Drain or Turn. Either way, that ain’t what happened here.” Faith sounded certain, and Cat risked glancing over at her. Faith’s expression was pensive as she watched Maura examine the body. “Whatever killed your vic was human. I don’t know how, though. Wicked hard to drink blood if you ain’t a vamp.”

She had a very good point. “So we’re back where we started.” Great. They couldn’t buy a break. Six victims already and not one real clue.

“You always give up that easy?” Faith met Cat’s eyes, and she shuddered. They were like warm chocolate, only it was Cat who suddenly wanted to melt. “The doc’s looking at the body. T says she’s the best there is. We still haven’t been to all the crime scenes. We’ll find something.”

A flush crawled up Cat’s neck and face at the mild rebuke. “Right. We’ll find something,” she echoed. Her lips turned up in a smile. “Sorry.” The word “ma’am” hovered on her lips and Cat bit it back.  

A dimple flashed when Faith smiled. “I been workin’ on the pep talks. How’m I doing so far? You feel pepped now?”

“Yeah.” The electric tingles were back. Cat absently rubbed her arm where all the hairs stood at attention. “I’m so pepped you wouldn’t believe.” It was no lie. Not even a dozen espressos left her this jazzed.

“If you try to bring out pompons or cheerleading uniforms, I’m having you both committed.” Tara bumped Faith’s shoulder and did that funny half-smile thing at Cat. “Now I know what Mr. Giles felt like all those years, sweetie. The only adult in a room full of adolescents.”

Cat wanted to hate Tara. Last night, it had seemed a simple enough emotion. It wasn’t simple at all, though, she realized. Tara was too nice to hate, and she had no idea what her very existence in Faith’s life meant for Cat. ”I think your Domme just insulted us,” she told Faith, lips feeling stiff with the effort of uttering “your Domme.”

“T knows me pretty good.” Faith’s grin was wide and carefree. She slung an arm around Cat’s shoulders and spun them so they faced Tara. “Question is: did she figure you out? You just a big kid, too? Ain’t had anybody to get into trouble with in a while.”

For fifteen years, Cat had imagined Faith touching her. Reality was far different. Desire took second place to pain as the weight of Faith’s arm pressed against last night’s welts. She sucked in a quick breath and held it.

Faith didn’t notice. She continued to tease Cat. “You should meet the dudes at the Council. Most of ‘em are from England. They wear tweed and drink tea, and they got no sense of humor.”

“Sounds like a certain medical examiner’s mother,” Jane added dryly. “She’s English, too. I wonder if she’s related to some of your Council guys. The last time Constance was in town, Maura made me scrub the kitchen with a toothbrush. No joke. And every meal was some special dish that Maura swore was Constance’s favorite.”

Maura overheard Jane’s comment. Apparently finished with her examination, she had moved closer as they’d talked. Pinning Jane with an imperious stare, she stripped off her latex gloves and tossed them into an evidence-collection bag. “Are you saying you don’t enjoy spending time with my mother?”

Jane immediately shook her head. “That wasn’t what I said.”

“No, you agreed with Faith, implying that my mother had an affinity for Tweed, a particularly rough, unfinished woolen fabric and tea,” Maura clarified.

Since Faith’s arm was still resting on her shoulders, Cat felt her quiver with suppressed laughter. This close, she could smell Faith’s perfume, a dark mixture of cinnamon and something spicy. Unconsciously, she leaned closer.

“Maura, I mean… Ma’am, I…” Jane was floundering. Cat had _never_ heard her use any honorific with Maura in the six weeks she’d been working with the task force.

Maura let her verbally stumble for a long minute. “Really, Jane. How can my mother lack a sense of humor when I clearly have one?” Her smile was triumphant before it disappeared beneath her usual intense expression. “Now, I don’t have anything new regarding the case. This was a preliminary examination of the victim. There could be evidence in the body that I can’t see here. Please don’t speculate on what we do, or do not, have until then.”

“Aw, Maura. Come on. You’ve got to give us something,” Jane had recovered enough to protest. “I’m not asking you to make something up. I just want to know how she died. Faith says it wasn’t a vampire. What was it? What made those marks? Did the bite kill her? Or the blood loss?”

“You do realize, if I answered any of those questions, I would, in fact, be speculating?” Maura wasn’t giving an inch.

From Jane’s sudden smirk, she had known that from the start. God, Cat loved them – and hated them at the same time. Maura’s cool control and Jane’s passion. They constantly picked and teased each other, but you could see the love.

Maura nodded at the morgue assistants who were wheeling the body out of the church. “I need to get back to the morgue. This body has priority, and I’ll start the autopsy this afternoon. Jane, will you and Detective Frost be attending?” She was very good at _not_ mixing business with her relationship with Jane. Maura _asked,_ rather than ordered.

It made Jane’s grimace amusing. She clearly would prefer to spend the day with Maura, even if that meant watching her carve up bodies. “Um, no. I’m going to stay here and work with the uniforms on the neighborhood canvas. Cat can stay, too. She used to work this beat, and it might help get some answers. I doubt the locals are going to cough up information for a new face.”

“I’m sorry, Detective,” Tara disagreed. “I’ll help you ask questions. As a witch, I can run a surface aura scan on anyone you talk to.” Everyone except Faith looked at her in confusion - and Tara blushed and ducked her head.

Dominants blushed? All the ones Cat knew were arrogant and domineering to the extreme. She certainly couldn’t imagine Maura doing looking shy and turning red.

Moving away from Cat, Faith reached out and tucked the hair that had fallen in front of Tara’s face behind Tara’s ear. “Means T can tell you if somebody’s lying.”

“And it will leave Detective McClearen available to show Faith around the crime scenes.” Recovering her composure, Tara reminded Jane of their request from the previous night. “She needs to examine the sites for any evidence that would point to demonic involvement. Although none of the wounds on your victim are from a vampire attack, that doesn’t mean that they were not part of the crime.”

That confused Cat. “Wait. If none of the vics were killed by vamps, why are you and Faith here?” It came out a little more bluntly than she’d intended and now Cat was the one blushing as Maura and Tara gave her matching looks, complete with raised brows. “I just...” Cat hunted for a more polite way to phrase her question. “You said last night Faith was a specialist for the Council. Why send in a heavy hitter when there are other cops who are Slayers? There are at least five in C6 alone.”

“We don’t know, Cat,” Faith said.

_“I don’t know, little cat,” Faith said softly through their bond. “You know it don’t work that way. We gotta wait until we magically find each other.”_

Tears threatened as Faith’s answer merged with a snippet of memory. Cat held very still, not even blinking, praying no one noticed.

"One of the Council Seers had a vision. Faith and I are supposed to be here, but they didn’t give us any details.” Tara’s half-smile was wry this time. “Seers aren’t known for crystal clear images _or_ for answering questions. Short of blowing a few holes in the Council building, I had to accept the assignment and let Fate take its course”

Fate. Cat hated Fate. Fate determined bondmates - and Fate took them away. “Doesn’t seem like a good way to do business.”

“Beats the Hell out of prophecies,” Faith murmured. “You ready to roll, Cat? If we stand here too long, T will find something else to keep me busy, and I’m not lookin’ to spend hours researching or doing some show and tell on Slayer abilities.” Her voice dropped as Tara smirked at her comment. “It’s like she thinks I need to learn people skills.”

Cat knew she should say no. Jane was the lead detective on the case. Not to mention every minute spent with Faith twisted Cat up inside. She’d already hit more highs and low emotionally in the last twelve hours than in the past year.

But she couldn’t.

This was Faith. _Her_ Faith. Her shoulders were still warm from Faith’s touch. Cat wanted more. For a little while, without Tara nearby, Cat could pretend that Faith remembered who she was and that they were still bonded. “We’ll have to swing by the station house first. My car’s there and it would be good to have the crime scene photos and first responder reports handy. If something’s been altered or you have questions, we can reference the reports.”

“You drive then. I ain’t much good with cars. It’s a Slayer thing.” Faith moved toward the front of the church with Cat on her heels.

“Yes, Faith,” Cat murmured obediently.


	4. Chapter 4

They’d hitched a ride to the station in a radio car. Cat had been fine during the quick trip. The two young officers pestered Faith with questions about being a Slayer and all the different demons she’d seen. Once they retrieved the case files and climbed into Cat’s car, things had become awkward. Fifteen years of waiting for Faith to come back, fifteen years of talking to the missing bond, yelling at it and at Faith for leaving her alone... And now that they were in the car alone, without Faith’s Dominant, Cat didn’t know what to say. Or how to act. She gripped the wheel too tightly and drove as if they were involved in a high speed chase.

“Heard you say you were from C6.” Faith broke the silence. She’d removed her seatbelt and sat with her back against the passenger door so she could face Cat. “Me, too. I grew up in Southie. This is the first time I’ve been back…in a long time.”

The news wasn’t a surprise. Faith’s accent was pure South Boston, with a little West Coast flavor tossed in. But for Faith to volunteer the information left Cat elated. Faith had _never_ talked about herself when they were growing up. Feeling better, a little more positive about being with Faith, Cat responded, “Yeah. I moved here right after college.” Cat’s parents still hadn’t forgiven her for leaving Texas. “Snow looked so beautiful and romantic in pictures. Reality, though, it’s a bitch. My first winter here, I didn’t even own a coat or snow boots. I was cold all the time, and walking a beat was murder. My partner thought I was a big wuss.”

“And I hated California. Hot, humid, and the way they talked.” Cat loved Faith’s laugh. Or, chuckle, really. It was husky and it hit her right in the heart.

“Did you move there for the Council?” If Cat focused on the road and not on the fact that she was actually talking to _Faith_ it was easier to ask questions.

She saw Faith shake her head. “Not really.”

There was no more explanation forthcoming. This was more the Faith that Cat remembered. How many times had she pressed Faith for details about herself because of something she’d felt through their bond? But no matter how many times she’d asked, no matter how she’d begged, Faith had shut her out or stopped talking if Cat asked about her life. She had been very young then. She’d believed that Faith was her Dominant.

Cat no longer had those illusions - and she was a detective. Setting her jaw, Cat did what she’d always wanted. She mined for information.

“So you went to see the sun and the sand? I love the beach. Me and my folks used to hit Corpus a couple of times a year. And I visited Miami Beach one Spring Break.” It had been a horrible experience. Too many drunken college students. All of them either already bonded and hanging all over their bondmates or stumbling around coming on to any unattached Dom or sub in the drunken belief they’d finally found their “intended.”

Faith shifted again, going back to a traditional pose on the seat, staring straight ahead out the windshield. It meant Cat couldn’t see her expression when she glanced over. “Ran into a badass vamp. Thought California was far enough away he couldn’t find me.”

Fear blinded Cat for a moment. She lost sight of the road as her throat closed. “It’s dead, right?” she asked tightly. If it wasn’t…

“Take it easy, tiger.” Faith reached across the car and gently touched Cat’s shoulder. “I’m here, ain’t I? Kakistos got dusted a long time ago. Bastard followed me all the way to Sunnydale, the biggest craphole on the planet. He died there after I got some help.”

Cat shivered as Faith’s fingers closed over her shoulder a second time that day. She didn’t even notice the pain from the bruises and welts. “Faith.” She couldn’t stop the soft entreaty, a plea for more, when Faith’s hand dropped back to the seat.

“Cat?” Faith was watching her now, eyes wide.

The moment stretched on too long. Cat was off-balance, body and heart ready to throw themselves at Faith while her mind screamed warnings. She had to pull it together. Faith didn’t remember. As far as she was concerned Cat was a stranger - an obviously crazy one, based on her current actions. Staring grimly at the red leather cuff on her right wrist, Cat concentrated on its meaning. Forsaken. Alone. A sub with a broken bond. Faith’s touch had meant nothing more than a fellow sub offering comfort. She needed to apologize or make a joke. She needed to let Faith know she wasn’t going to cross any boundaries. “Sorry. No one…It’s been a long time…” Cat pressed her lips together before she embarrassed herself further. “Your Domme seems all sweet on the surface, but I bet she could kick my ass if she wanted. No way am I poaching.” She managed a more teasing tone the second time around. Blinking rapidly, Cat willed away yet another round of near-tears.

“You kinda push her buttons,” Faith admitted. “Ain’t never seen her go all Alpha Domme like she did last night when you tried to shake my hand. She had you almost on your knees, didn’t she?” Although Faith matched Cat’s attempt at humor, the message was clear. Faith belonged to Tara, and Tara would be more than happy to prove that point if Cat pushed the issue.

More unsettled than ever, Cat withdrew behind The Job. “We’re almost to the third crime scene. The body was found overlooking the Bay in Marine Park. From the photos, it’s probably not a vampire attack. The marks look exactly like the ones from the church this morning.”

The binder holding copies of the crime scene photos rustled as Faith opened it. “Yeah. None of this makes sense.”

“Do vampires, I don’t know, make bargains with humans?” College literature discussions of Faust teased Cat. “What’s the connection? The victimology shows no ties between the victims. They were all left in different parts of the city. Different ages, races, genders, socio-economic backgrounds. The only similarity is cause of death.”

“Vamps are big on family, especially if their Sire is around.” Faith bounced her right leg. Nervous energy? Or nervous twitch? Cat wondered. “Only know one time vamps worked with a human. Doubt you got anything like that here.”

Faith fell silent, obviously unwilling to explain further. Not wanting to upset their tentative working relationship, Cat didn’t push for more. Angling the car into a clearly marked no parking zone, Cat climbed out. Despite the meager sunlight, it was frigid this close to the water. Wind gusted, and whitecaps were visible beyond the snowy beach. “The body was on the pedestrian path.” She zipped up her coat and pulled on gloves.

Faith watched her bundle up with a smirk. She wore only a hooded sweatshirt beneath a faded jeans jacket. “I thought you said you’d been in Boston for a while? Looks like you’re still a big wuss, tiger.”

“I’m not courting pneumonia,” Cat retorted. Marching off in faux insult, she called over her shoulder, “Does Tara know you don’t have a coat?”

“Bitch.” Although Cat had a head start, Faith caught her in seconds. “You gonna rat on me? Toss a sister sub under the bus? That’s harsh.” Her grin was back for a second and then she sobered. “This place is wide open. You got a few trees up around the beach and parking lot. The walkway... I can see all the way out on the water.”

Cat nodded. “Just like the church. Not to mention it’s a cool mile out to the center point of the walkway - and that’s where we found the body. I’m in good shape and I wouldn’t want to carry you that far. Someone bigger? This vic was not a small woman. Five-nine and two fifty.”

“I could do it easy.” There was no boast in Faith’s voice. She simply stated a fact. “So could a vamp.”

They’d hit the pedestrian walkway and the wind picked up. There was no one around, and it was eerily quiet except for the wail of the wind and the soft slapping of the waves. “Still doesn’t track. Human killer but vampire body hauler? What about victims two and four? Maura’s pretty sure they were killed during the day.”

“Weren’t dumped during the day, right? Me and T read the reports.” Stopping, Faith pivoted and scanned the entire area. Her eyes narrowed as she faced Castle Island. “We got a watcher. The Fort ain’t open this time of year, and he ain’t bird watchin’ in the winter.”

Only her training kept Cat from looking in that direction, too. Instead, she casually strolled up to the railing and leaned against it. “I’ll call it in. Get a radio car to do a sweep.” She pulled her cellphone out and dialed dispatch. “This is Detective Cat McClearen, badge 6171. I have a possible 10-31 at Fort Independence. Requesting units at that site.”

“Roger that, Detective. Do you want to be notified when units arrive?” The dispatcher was all business, and Cat heard the sound of rapid typing in the background as the dispatcher documented her call.

“Yes. Notify Detective Jane Rizzoli of developments.” Cat wasn’t taking any chances. Jane could be...difficult if she felt out of the loop. She waited for an acknowledgement before ending the call and stuffing the phone back in her pocket.

Joining Cat at the railing, Faith looked out over the water. “Hey, T. You good to talk?” she said out loud.

Cat’s hunched her shoulders and tried to tune out Faith’s seemingly one-sided conversation. She used to do that, once upon a time.

Unfortunately, there was nothing to distract her as Faith continued. “Rizzoli’s about to get a call. Found some action up near Fort Independence. Cat called it in.” She paused and her head tilted comically to one side. “I’m not stupid, T! We’re hangin’ out waiting for the cop cars.”

Faith’s body language changed abruptly. She straightened and her chin dropped to her chest in the universal Bad Sub posture. “Sorry, Tara.”

Cat’s stomach cramped at the sight. She’d always imagined Faith standing tall and strong. Clearly in charge of those around her.

“Yeah. I mean, yes, Tara. I remember the rules.” Faith’s hands were now rubbing nervously up and down her pant legs. “I’ll be ready. Yes, Tara.”

In the distance, Cat heard sirens. They grew louder as she watched Faith out of the corner of her eye. The conversation must be over. Not only was Faith _not_ speaking out loud, her posture had relaxed. Instead of braced for Tara’s displeasure, Faith was slumped against the rail with her eyes closed.

A strange need to wrap her arms around Faith, to protect her, hit Cat hard. She looked so sad. So defeated.  Cat inched closer so they almost touched along one side. “Tara wasn’t happy?” Her muscles ached with the strain of not bridging the rest of the gap. If she did, Cat knew there would be no going back.

A tight laugh answered her.

“I…I could talk to her,” Cat offered quietly. It probably wouldn’t help. Dominants rarely accepted excuses. Anything she said to Tara might be viewed as interference, and backfire. “We weren’t anywhere near the Fort.”  Cat would be willing to do anything to take care of Faith right now. “I could tell her it was my fault. That I’d made you do it. Tell Tara to report me to Cavanaugh.” Judicial punishment would be worth it to protect her Faith.

“I’m not lyin’ to T, and you aren’t lying, either.” Faith pushed away from the railing and glared at Cat – who took a step back and dropped her eyes. “Call dispatch and find out what the unis found.”

“Yes, Faith.” Cat hit redial on her phone and asked for a status check. “Nothing,” she relayed a moment later. “No luck. Jane sent CSU out to look at foot- and fingerprints. The responders said there were signs of activity but no obvious physical evidence there.”

Eyes narrowed, Faith peered at the Fort again, where Cat could faintly see the flashing red and blues of the radio car light bar. “Time to do some more digging, tiger. Walk or drive the rest of the way?”

***

The conference room was packed. Every single member of the taskforce was in attendance, along with most of the brass from Boston Police Headquarters. Too many people in too small a space. It was hot and smelled of the leftover food in the overflowing garbage cans in one corner.

Cat stood jammed against Korsak as Jane briefed the team. “The sixth victim, Paula Benton, actually lived near the dump site. St. Peter’s Church on Flaherty. It’s the first time a victim was connected in any way to the neighborhood where we found the body.”

Seamlessly, Maura stepped in. “I completed the autopsy of Ms. Benton a few hours ago. Cause of death was exsanguination. The victim had two spherical puncture wounds spaced approximately five centimeters apart. The punctures were smooth, with no tear marks, as might be expected from a bite wound.”

A hand rose in the back ranks. “Dr. Isles, are you saying we are _not_ dealing with a vampire?”

“I’m sorry. Were you not listening?” Maura’s voice was sharp, and Cat glanced at Jane, who appeared both proud and pained. And with good reason. “At no time did I offer an opinion on the nature of the killer. I do not have any evidence to prove – or disprove – that a vampire, demon, or human killed Ms. Benton.”

Funeral parlors were louder than the conference room after Maura’s comment. Cat used the time to observe Faith and Tara. After the scene in Marine Park, Faith had recovered her equilibrium. She’d been the perfect partner as they’d spoken with the officers at the Fort and then driven to each of other crime scenes. There had been no more shared personal information or teasing.

To Cat, it had been a small yet still painful replay of the day the bond had disappeared. Faith had withdrawn. There and…not there, just as Cat knew her bond with Faith was alive even if Faith didn’t remember.

Faith knelt at Tara’s feet. Unlike the previous night, there was no companionable contact. Faith’s back was ramrod straight, hands resting palms-up on her thighs. Tara idly stroked Faith’s neck where it met her collar.

There were at least three other submissives in similar poses around the room. Had Cat been at the briefing as Faith’s sub, she would have been happy to kneel for Faith.

This was different. Faith shouldn’t kneel. Tara shouldn’t touch her as if she owned Faith.

Cat shifted and managed to bump Korsak. He turned his head and gave her a questioning look. Mouthing an apology, Cat directed her attention back to Tara as she piggybacked on Maura’s autopsy report. Her voice was so soft, Cat leaned forward to hear better. “Dr. Isles won’t speculate based on the current evidence. However, the Slayers’ Council is confident the killer is _not_ a vampire.” A murmur rose from the group. “The bite marks are clearly not vampiric in nature. Other demonic activity has not yet been ruled out.”

More hands waved in the air. Tara considered them for a moment without giving anyone a chance to ask questions.

“We do have one other new piece of information.” The hands reluctantly dropped when Jane stepped up to the large map of Boston covering one wall of the room. “During an examination of Dump Site Number Three, Detective McClearen and Slayer Lehane spotted someone watching them from a point here,” she tapped the Fort Independence symbol. “CSU recovered several partial prints, cigarette butts, and shoe prints. All of those items are being examined and run through local and federal databases now.” Jane followed Tara’s example and ignored anyone with a raised hand. “We don’t have any other details. We’ll schedule another full-team briefing once the lab results are in.”

There were several minutes of scraping chairs as most of the gathered officers and detectives filed out of the room. The Deputy Superintendent and Lieutenant Cavanaugh cornered Jane and Maura. Korsak made a beeline for the door.

That left Cat vulnerable when Tara approached. “Detective McClearen, I’d like to speak with you. In private, please.”


	5. Chapter 5

“What?” Cat stared at Tara in confusion. Talk with her alone? Why? Then confusion gave way to inevitable submissive paranoia. What had she done? “Private conversation” was Dominant code for punishment.

Eyes level and determined, Tara repeated, “I would like to talk with you alone, Detective. Now, please.” Polite, not _un_ friendly, definitely more command than request.

And that meant, no matter how much Cat wanted to refuse, there was only one answer. Of course, Cat didn’t respond immediately. If she could catch another Dominant’s attention, she might be able to wiggle out of this conversation. Her eyes darted around the room. Sub, sub, occupied Dominant, sub... Where the hell were all the Dominant cops? Department statistics said Dominants outnumbered submissives three to one.

“Detective, I won’t ask again,” Tara said with a very distinct edge. She was growing tired of waiting.

Well, hell. “Yes, Ma’am.” Cat dropped her eyes in acknowledgement. “Would...would you like me to schedule a room?” Sweat broke out all over Cat’s body. If Faith had mentioned her inappropriate behavior in the car, and Tara had reported it to Lieutenant Cavanaugh... Cat’s stomach twisted. She’d been out last night. She still hurt. A lot. Even the mildest judicial paddling would be excruciating.

“Detective.” Instinctively, Cat knew she was not impressing Tara with her lack of obedience. “I saw a small break room at the end of the hall. We can talk there. Follow me.” Without another word, Tara turned away. She snapped her fingers and Faith rose smoothly. A second later, they had both walked from the conference room.

Cat was frozen in place. What was happening? Official discipline required one of the rooms on the third floor. And witnesses. Why was Tara taking her to the break room? Her mind whirled until Cat finally woke up to the fact that Faith and Tara were gone. Which meant _Tara_ would be waiting and wondering why Cat hadn’t followed them. She jogged stiffly for the break room.

The door to the tiny, cluttered room was open. Faith knelt outside.

Tara really did want to talk to her alone. Cat wiped sweating palms on her jeans and went inside. “Ma’am?” She hesitated. “Should I close the door?”

Silence answered. Silence that grew louder and heavier with each passing second. Cat’s head dropped in response, her eyes finding one particular chip in the cheap linoleum floor particularly interesting. Her heart hammered in her chest. She opened - and closed - her mouth several times as she contemplated asking for the reason of this meeting.

Finally, Tara murmured, “Detective, I am going to ask you several questions. I expect you to answer completely and honestly. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” This was it. Cat was so tense she trembled.

“I noticed you flinch this morning in the church, when Faith touched you. Were you offended by her touch?” Tara’s voice was so soft and calm.

“No, Ma’am. I wasn’t offended.” Cat had been ready to drop to her knees and profess undying love for Faith. Worlds apart from “offended.”

“Thank you, Detective.” Cat relaxed slightly at the approval warming Tara’s voice. “So you weren’t insulted. And I know my Slayer wouldn’t use Slayer strength for a friendly gesture. Why did you flinch, Detective?”

Only now, confronted with the question, did Cat sense looming danger ahead. The piece of linoleum drew Cat’s attention again.

Suddenly, Tara’s feet blocked Cat’s view of the floor. “I’m getting very tired of your behavior, Detective.”

Head sinking lower, Cat felt the lash of Tara’s disappointment. Not anger. Tara’s voice was still soft and frighteningly gentle. Anger would have been better. It would have given Cat something to fight against. Disappointment was like acid on Cat’s submissive soul. She was hardwired to please, and she was failing miserably right now.

As if Tara read Cat’s mind, she said, “I know you want to please me, Detective. Show me how obedient you can be. Tell me why you flinched this morning at the church.”

The soft command wrapped around Cat and eroded her resistance. “My shoulders and back. They hurt, Ma’am.” She knew her answer wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Tara and mumbled the rest. “I went to a club last night and…and played.”

The silence returned, and the temperature in the room went arctic.

Cat wanted to sink to her knees so badly that the muscles in her thighs cramped. Tara’s silence suffocated her.

There was strain tightening Tara’s voice when she resumed questioning Cat. “Did you explain to your…your partner that you needed to be fully functional for work today?”

This just kept getting worse. “Not exactly.” Briefly contemplating running for the door and never coming back, Cat squeezed her eyes shut. “I only told her not to leave marks where anyone could see.” When there was no immediate – and disbelieving response – Cat risked opening her eyes. She broke position enough to glance up.

Tara’s eyes blazed, the blue so clear and cold they looked like ice. “And did you also forget to discuss limits and safewords, Detective?”

“No, Ma’am.” Cat hoped Tara never discovered this was only partially true. Limits and safewords had come after most of the scene had been completed.

The news didn’t entirely appease Tara. “Detective, I should report you to Lieutenant Cavanaugh. Your actions…Your complete lack of responsibility…”

The floor seemed to drop from beneath Cat’s feet. No. “Please. Please, Ma’am. No.” Her knees flexed; Cat _needed_ to kneel, to show Tara her real submission. Only the fact that she wasn’t Tara’s to truly Dominate kept her on her feet.

“Did the Dominant at least provide aftercare, Detective?” Tara was relentless, and she seemed to know the worst possible questions to ask.

“No, Ma’am.” Maybe Cat should offer to report _herself_ to Cavanaugh. The more she talked, the more she realized how badly she’d screwed up. Tara was right. Going to the club had been stupid. If nothing else, she should have limited the play to something milder than impact play. Mindless sex and hand-spanking or simple bondage. But she’d needed to _hurt_.

This time, Cat was prepared for Tara’s heavy silence. She deserved it.

“You are not my sub, Detective. And you have no Dominant responsible for your behavior.” The soft words cut Cat to the bone. Without thinking she pulled the right sleeve of her shirt over the red leather of her wrist cuff. “Because I cannot go to the woman who abused you last night, I will tell _you_ what will happen as long as you are a member of this team.

“I will speak with Dr. Isles. Before you leave the station house today, she will make sure you are healthy enough for full duty. After that, Detective, you will go home for the day. If you feel the urge to _play_ ,” Cat flinched at the sudden, raw anger in Tara’s voice, “you will come to me or to Dr. Isles. Although bonded, we are more than skilled enough to provide what you might need without crippling you.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” It was better than Cat probably deserved. Guilt ate at her. She’d let Jane and the task force down.

“That’s not all, Detective. There is the matter of your punishment.” Tara moved into Cat’s personal space. “Look at me.”

Afraid to show even the slightest hesitation, Cat raised only her eyes to Tara’s.

“While you are at home tonight, you will write a list. A detailed list of all of the ways your actions could have impacted you, this team, and the people of Boston. You will give this list to me here, in this room, at six tomorrow morning. Is that clear, Detective?” Tara demanded.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Wanting Tara to see she’d paid attention and taken the punishment to heart, Cat repeated, “At six tomorrow morning, I’ll bring you my list of how my actions may have impacted you, the team, and the citizens of Boston.”

A hint of a smile softened Tara’s expression. “I know you will, Detective.”

Cat smiled back, feeling unaccountably happier.

“Now, Detective, you’ll stay here while I find Dr. Isles.” Tara swept out of the room and took all of Cat’s energy with her.

She dropped to the floor as if her legs had been cut out from under her.  “Son of bitch!” She’d never underestimate Tara again. Her comment to Faith earlier in the day had been a joke. After the last few minutes, though, Cat was absolutely convinced Tara could chew her up and spit her out without breaking a sweat. Her hands shook as she scrubbed them over her face.

“I told you not to piss off the witch, tiger,” Faith called out from her spot by the door. “You didn’t believe me.”

“Look who’s talking, _Slayer_ ,” Cat responded softly. “I’m betting Tara didn’t say, ‘Hey, Faith, keep the dumb detective company while I find Maura.’” She grew more serious. “I’m OK; I promise. Don’t get yourself in more trouble because of me.”

Faith chuckled softly. “Aw, you’re so butch, tiger. Tryin’ to take care of me. But I’m good. Just want you to watch yourself. You pulled some stupid shit last night, and if I’da been paying attention today, I’d have busted your ass instead of T. You do it again, and you better hope I don’t find out. Got it?”

“Yes, Faith.” Cat flushed. Warmth spread from her heart to the rest of her body. Somewhere deep inside, Faith had to remember the bond. She had to. No one except a bonded Dominant would be so fiercely protective of a submissive’s safety.

“Good girl, tiger. Now stand up. The Ladies are on the way,” Faith warned.

Climbing to her feet, Cat took a slow breath and rolled her shoulders. Everything was fine. Tara and Maura would take care of her. She settled into place, head lowered and eyes on the floor. She’d have to file a work order with facilities to get that buckled spot fixed.

Maura’s high heels announced her arrival in the break room. Cat saw her stylish Pleasure pumps and Tara’s more serviceable combat boots come into view. “Cat, Tara says you may have been injured last night. I want to take a look, but I need your permission. Do I have that?”

It felt odd for Maura to ask permission. Cat was more used to Dominant’s assuming they had the right to command her. Maura was playing it by the book. “Yes, Ma’am,” Cat responded. She didn’t think she really needed a doctor. She’d taken worse floggings and survived. However, Tara had been very clear. Maura got to look and decide if she was fit for duty.

“Take off your shirt, please.” Cat did so, not bothering to disguise her wince at the nagging pain. Maura’s fingers lightly traced the weals on Cat’s back. “Did you specifically request no permanent markings or were you merely lucky?” she asked sharply. “Some of these came very close to breaking the skin, and I don’t have to tell you how risky it is to use a flogger on the hips where the flails may strike bone or wrap around?”

Lovely. Another lecture. Cat huddled in front of Maura.

“I think the Detective understands her mistake, Maura,” Tara interrupted. “We had a long talk before I came to you. However, she wanted you to check on her condition before going off-shift for the night.” The words nearly caused Cat to break position. Tara was keeping their real conversation a secret. Telling Maura that _Cat_ had initiated this checkup.

Cat decided Tara was a pretty awesome person.

The fingers were back. Only this time, they didn’t trace. They pushed and poked and stretched the skin until Cat bit her lips to hold in whimpers. “Easy, Detective. It won’t be long now,” Tara murmured. She moved closer, not quite touching Cat’s left side as Maura worked. “You’re fine. Just relax. Breathe in and out. Slowly. Let me see you try.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Cat’s eyes drifted shut, and she concentrated on following Tara’s orders. In. Out. In… The pain receded a little. Or maybe Cat stopped caring. Her mind floated, detached from Maura’s examination.

Finally, Maura announced, “Some of the abrasions need to be cleaned. Since Tara indicated you were unfamiliar with your play partner, there is some risk of infection. Improperly cleaned equipment may leave traces of lymph, a fluid which collects in bruises and other wounds, behind. You also have a few hematomas which display elevated temperature and hardness.”

She gently maneuvered Cat to the far side of the room and a tiny counter and sink. Placing her black “doctor” bag on the counter, Maura removed a pair of latex gloves and other tools of her trade. Once the gloves were on, she carefully applied disinfectant.

Cat remained silent. It didn’t really hurt, not like the actual flogging had. The care Maura took, the way Tara hovered nearby, seeped into Cat’s pores. It filled some need she hadn’t even known existed. Most of her play partners, as Maura called them, walked away as soon as the scene (or the sex) ended. There had never been this much emotion or caring when she’d played, this level of attention to Cat’s well-being.

“There. You can put your shirt back on, Cat.” Maura removed her gloves with a snap. “You need to put ice on the worst of the bruising, and I’ll call in a prescription for an anti-inflammatory. If you’re still feeling pain in three or four days, you’ll need to see your regular physician. Until then, I believe you are well enough to work. I will expect you to tell me or Tara if anything worsens or you feel you can’t fulfill your duties.”

Cat gratefully slipped back into her shirt. “Thank you, Ma’am. I’ll pick up the meds on the way home. There’s a Walgreens across the street from my apartment building. I’ll text the address to your phone.” She did that quickly. “May I leave now?”

Warm fingers suddenly gripped her chin. “If you ever do anything like this again,” Maura warned. Her eyes were dark with concern. “Please talk to one of us, Cat. Or schedule an appointment with your psychologist. This type of reckless disregard for personal safety is often a hallmark of Forbidden status. We can help you find a safe outlet for you needs, Cat.”

“I will.” Voice cracking with emotion, Cat met Maura’s eyes and then glanced at Tara. “I promise, Ma’am.”

***

An hour later, Cat munched on a piece of toast and took the first two pills Maura had prescribed. She’d already loaded ice packs into a special harness-like contraption with Velcro ends and wrapped it around her back where the worst of the soreness was.

The pharmacist had warned the medication would make her groggy. Before that happened, Cat had one final task. She grabbed a legal pad and a pen and sat at the kitchen table.

_Tara,_

_Here are the possible consequences from my trip to the club:_

_1) I would have been unable to protect Faith if the “watcher” had attacked us_

_2) I might have been too distracted from the pain to see a clue at one of the crime scenes_

_3) I disappointed you and betrayed the trust you and the task force placed in me_

Tears dripped onto the paper by the time she finished the line. Ink blurred and spread in multiple places as Cat continued to add to her list.  


	6. Chapter 6

The squad room was empty when Cat walked in. Most of the overhead lights were off, only a few strips illuminating the large bullpen. She slowed her steps and enjoyed the rare quiet moment. It felt good. _She_ felt good. Calmer. More focused, even if she was leery of facing Tara after yesterday.

Tara. Cat shivered a little as she remembered Tara’s soft, relentless voice the previous day. How could someone that nice be so Dominant at the same time?

She hesitated on the threshold of the break room. Tara and Faith were seated at one of the tables. A breakfast feast covered every inch of its surface.

“Good morning, Detective.” Looking up, Tara smiled. “We brought enough for you to join us, but you might want to hurry. Faith has no manners and the metabolism of a high school football team. If you don’t sit down soon, there won’t be anything left.” She raised an eyebrow at Faith when she growled a protest at the description. “Who nearly stabbed Mr. Giles with a fork last month when he reached for the last jelly doughnut? And how many all you can eat buffets have pictures of you behind the counter with a ‘do not allow entrance’ sticker?”

Faith pouted. There was no other word for the way she crossed her arms over her chest and slumped. Her lower lip poked out, too, completing the image. Cat was immediately charmed - and swamped with visions of nibbling on that lip.

The inner peace fled, and Cat was abruptly thrust back into turmoil. If she belonged to Faith, she could go to her knees. Lean in and look up through her lashes. Maybe ask if Faith... Fucking Hell. Cat’s hand closed convulsively around the list she’d so carefully prepared last night. The crinkling of the paper didn’t help Cat’s current struggle; however, it did give her something (however small) on which to focus. “I brought the list you wanted.” The atmosphere was different. Tara wasn’t the scary Alpha Domme. Still, better safe than sorry. “Ma’am,” Cat tacked on as she held out the balled-up paper.

It stayed in her hand for a long moment while Tara watched Cat closely. Her gaze was sharp and probing. “Thank you, Detective. Sit down and have some breakfast,” she said. Friendly and welcoming had been replaced with command.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Cat dropped into a chair, keeping her back well away from the backrest.  The ice and painkillers had helped. She didn’t want to set the welts off again.

Unfortunately, both Faith and Tara noticed the maneuver. “You OK, tiger?” Faith asked.

At the same time, Tara said, “Maura will be here soon. She can take another look at your back.”

Cat blushed so hot, her face burned. “I’m fine,” she answered them shyly. “Really. Just, you know, being careful. I feel much better this morning, thank you.” Uncomfortable with the double stare, she made a show of looking for the perfect piece of fruit in a bowl right in front of her seat.

“What’s the plan today?” Faith winked to let Cat know Faith, at least, was letting her off the hook.

Winking back, basking in Faith’s attention, Cat finally gave up on choosing healthy food and snagged two doughnuts from a box. “I don’t know what Jane has in mind. We’ve done the revisit on crime scenes. The lab hasn’t finished checking the stuff from the Fort yesterday.” Cat broke off long enough to take a bite of breakfast (and chew, of course). “Maybe you and I can commandeer another conference room. We did the actual walk-through yesterday and didn’t find anything new. Let’s spread out the photos, each scene at a time. Maybe that’s where we missed something.”

Faith seemed about to respond when she froze and frowned. Her eyes shot to Tara, and Cat followed her lead.

The crumpled list was finally flat enough to read. Tara peered intently at Cat’s work. “It’s very detailed, Detective. I’m very pleased you took the punishment seriously.” Her eyes stayed locked onto the list, one finger raised to gently touch the paper.

An inner tension Cat had not fully recognized flowed away. Tara thought the things she’d written were good. She finished off the first doughnut quickly, and hunted through the rest of the offerings for a plastic bottle of milk. “I did, Ma’am. I did take it seriously. Thank you for...for not reporting me. It won’t happen again.”

“I know it won’t, Detective.” Tara folded the paper and placed it inside her backpack. “Now, why don’t you relax? I only eat misbehaving subs once a week and I’ve reached my quota.” Her quirky smiled flashed and she pointed at Faith. “You don’t count, my Slayer. You are fair game any and every day.”

Ooh. Faith dimples. Cat nearly drooled when Faith grinned and then slowly and deliberately stuck her tongue at Tara. “So much for the White Witch.”

The lighthearted atmosphere lasted for another brief moment before the lights in the bull pen came fully on. Footsteps and voices announced others had arrived for the day Cat sighed and finished her breakfast. “Let me check in with Jane in case she’s got something planned for us. If not...I’ll get the photos and set up in the room next to taskforce command. Meet you there?”

“Yeah, tiger. Just need to help T clean up. I’m a reformed slob, ya know.” Putting action to words, Faith hopped up and grabbed soiled napkins and several empty milk and juice bottles.

***

Cat escaped another big scene with Maura because the doctor had a meeting with the Superintendant. It was a sign that Cat was living under a lucky star. Jane agreed to let Cat and Faith go back over the crime scene photos and sent Korsak and Frost out to re-interview possible witnesses to the murders.

It was such a wonderful day that Cat actually hummed as she shoved a cart loaded with the Murder Books into the squad’s other conference room. It was definitely cleaner here. The task force pretty much lived in the larger room. “Ready when you are,” she announced. Faith sprawled gracelessly in a chair, obviously waiting for her arrival.

And Tara stood in front of the window at the other end of the room.

The happy song playing in Cat’s head hit a snag before resuming at a slower tempo. “Start at the beginning and work our way forward, or hit the most recent first?”

“You’re the expert, Detective,” Tara answered. “You tell us what you want us to do.”

Mind completely blank, Cat stared dumbly at Tara for a moment. Then, little by little, her brain began to function again. Her right hand rose, red cuff easily visible. “Submissives, or persons inclined or willing to submit to orders or the wishes of others, are easily identified by markers worn around the neck or the right wrist,” she intoned in a pompous imitation of an old teacher. “These individuals are patently incapable of making decisions or providing direction to even the most incompetent of Dominants.”

“Bet Red would love that, huh, T?” Faith hopped up and unloaded the boxes with an ease that left Cat both envious – and more than a little aroused. And Faith had called _her_ butch the day before.

Tara giggled, and Cat couldn’t help smiling in response even if she had no idea who or what Red was. “I’ll try that the next time we’re all at The Academy together.” Sitting down, she opened the nearest box. “Maybe it would be better if we just start wherever. Take things out of context so we don’t simply _expect_ to see certain things.”

It made sense. Cat grabbed one of the boxes without looking at the victim’s name on the side. A quick side trip for a couple of the sub pillows piled in a corner, and she took up a spot on the floor. She noticed Faith take a similar pose at Tara’s feet.

The sight still hurt, but Cat pushed through it. They had work to do. Besides, Faith looked happy and content. Cat didn’t have the energy to begrudge that right now. Turning her eyes to the crime scene photos, she settled down and concentrated.

Cat lost herself in images of death. It was overwhelming, the number of close up shots of the victim and pools of blood. Her doughnuts sat like chocolate-covered rocks in her stomach.

“Hey, Cat?” Faith interrupted Cat’s perusal of the puncture marks on the third victim, Sarah Johnson’s, neck. “What’s with the pics of the locals? Bunch of weirdos lookin’ at dead bodies.”

Glad for the break, Cat looked up. “Weird doesn’t begin to describe it. Some of those people are just out for the excitement. Cops, guns, blood, gore. A way to spice up their miserable lives.” She clambered up and trotted over to a whiteboard. She wrote “regular sicko” with a blue Expo marker.

“Oh, Goddess. No one told us there was another Willow on the loose.” Tara looked down at Faith in mock horror. “She’s got colored pens and everything.”

Cat paused and _almost_ glared teasingly at Tara. She ended up giving the Eye to a spot on the wall just to the left of Tara’s head. “Do you want me to continue or would you rather make fun of me? And don’t think I won’t make you tell me who this Willow is and why this pen,” which Cat brandished at the room, “is such a big deal.”

Head resting on Tara’s knees, Faith faux whispered, “At least she can’t turn us into frogs, T.”

“No, but she could shoot us,” Tara whispered back.

“Ooh, better thought. She could put me in handcuffs.” Faith sounded very interested in that. Tara, too, from the sudden flush on her face.

Cat couldn’t tear her eyes away from the two of them. The way they leaned close. The way Tara’s hand seemed to naturally fall to Faith’s neck, stroking the collar the way she had the day before. Cat wanted that. She wanted it _so fucking bad_.

And she wanted it with Faith. The woman who gazed at Tara with transparent devotion.

Clearing her throat, Cat interrupted the tender scene. If her voice was a little strained, she could blame it on the heady odor of the Expo marker. Blueberry, if she wasn’t mistaken. “After your regular sickos, you have the press. They hang out with vans and cameras with the sole intent of getting the big scoop.” She wrote “Reporters” on the board.

“Finally, you have the real reason we have those photos. Psychopaths. They do unspeakably evil things and then hang out in the crowd to watch the cops look like idiots.” “Psycho” went on the board, too. “We try to see if the same person shows up at all the crime scenes. It’s statistically improbable,” Cat mentally thanked her police academy instructors for that phrase, “for the same person to be at multiple scenes scattered over large geographical areas.”

“In other words, we’re playin’ a big game of Go Fish.” Faith nuzzled her cheek against Tara. “You want to tell me again why I’m here, T? Slayers and research… Never been a good mix.”

“You’ll survive, sweetie.” Tara gently rapped Faith on top of the head. “Now grab a new box and get back to work.”

With a grumble, Faith did as ordered. So did Cat. They had to find a break in the case soon. She couldn’t take much more of the Faith and Tara Show.

Silence descended again.

They were down to the last box, each of them with a binder of evidence logs and photos. Cat’s earlier exuberance was long gone. She rubbed tired and gritty eyes and turned the page. She’d finish this binder and do a coffee run. Caffeine was a necessity.

“Cat, can you hand me the binder in Yssel 3?” Tara’s terse request sent up a red flag.

Grabbing the box and shoving it her was, Cat asked, “Got something?” She scooted over and peered at the binder already on Tara’s lap. She’d looked at the same photos a couple of hours before. Nothing stood out.

It did to Tara, though. She leaned over and pulled a binder from the Yssel 3 box and placed it on the conference room table. “Look at this. This woman has a pin on her coat. It’s the same one as the man in _this_ photo.” She pointed back to the binder on her lap. “Different people. Different scenes. Same pin.”


	7. Chapter 7

The task force snapped into action with the discovery of the possible clue. The photo was quickly enlarged and placed in the middle of the command center’s main white board. Frost had taken it one step further. He’d scanned the photo and used the room’s projector as well.

A floor to ceiling replica of the collar pin took up one wall of the conference room.

“I don’t recognize it.” Jane sounded as if that was impossible to believe. “We even sent it to OCCB and the Gang Division. Nothing.” She stood so close to the wall Cat wondered how she could really see the image.

Frost typed rapidly for a few minutes, and the large image changed. A dotted line surrounded the pin before another screen replaced the photo. “I’m trying to use a variation of facial recognition, like the Gang boys use with tats. If any law enforcement organization anywhere has logged this image, we’ll know.” He peered at Jane apologetically. “It’s going to take a while. The database is huge.”

“What about the people wearin’ it?” Faith asked. “Facial recognition is for faces. You plug those in yet?”

If Frost’s skin had been a shade lighter, Cat thought she might have been able to spot his blush. “I’m working on it now,” he mumbled. It wasn’t like him to miss the obvious. Then again, they’d all been at this for too long.

No one moved. There was nothing they could do.

Unfortunately, the waiting gave Cat too much time to think. In less than two days, her world had turned upside down. It had happened before, fifteen years earlier. In both cases, Faith had been the catalyst. Cat’s eyes were drawn to Faith; she tried not to be obvious.

Faith was beautiful. She was obviously fit. As a Slayer, Faith probably worked out a lot. Or did she? Cat had worked with several Slayers in C6, but she’d never taken the time to get to know them.  Would Faith talk to her about it? Or would she shut down the way she always had before…before their bond shattered?

Their fucking bond. Cat rubbed the fingers of her left hand over the cuff on her right wrist. Red leather. A warning sign to every other normal bonded person on the planet. Beware. Emotional cripple ahead.

Cat’s bond with Faith was clearly gone. Cat still remembered it. Remembered the sudden shock of the warm voice in her head for the first time. She’d been taking a math test at school when someone said,

_You really care about that shit?_

The voice had been _loud_ , and Cat had jumped in surprise – and then looked around. Mr. Haynes normally got mad when people talked during a test. He went postal over bad words. The whole class was bent over their desks, though. No one else looked up. No one else had heard anything.

Lowering her head, Cat had gone back to work. _That’s_ when her giggles had started. Right there in the middle of the test, someone had started tickling Cat. It felt like it anyway. Like someone was tickling her sides or under her arms. Cat giggled until she thought she might throw up – and the invisible fingers went away.

_You’re fun._ The voice was back. _Think I’ll keep ya’._

Faith hadn’t kept that promise. And now Cat knew she never would. Faith didn’t remember, and Cat was going to be alone forever.

There in the conference room, surrounded by other cops and with Faith sitting on the floor a few feet away, Cat faced one simple fact head on. She would always be alone. Unlike two nights ago, there was no longer any hope that one day, Faith would remember and find her.

Faith _had_ found her – and there was no memory.

What was Cat supposed to do?

Doctor Blaylock would no doubt say it was time to move on. Time to find an unbonded Dominant and make a life together. A life with no bond, sure, but (he always insisted) people didn’t need a bonded mate to be fulfilled.

Cat wasn’t sure she could do that. She _was_ sure she didn’t _want_ to do it. She tried to imagine it. She knew several Dominants who wore a Red Cuff. They were nice women. Two of them were prettier than Faith. Her eyes slid back to Faith. Actually, no they weren’t. Sighing, she indulged in a little fantasy. What would happen if Faith suddenly remembered their bond?

_Pushing away from Tara, Faith stalked over to Cat. “You’re in a lot of trouble, little cat.” Her hand reached out and tangled in Cat’s shirt, dragging her out of her seat. “What did I tell you was my number one rule?”_

_Cat couldn’t think. “I don’t…Faith?”_

_If anything, her lack of answer angered Faith further. Faith swept her free hand over the conference table. File folders and photos scattered and landed on the floor seconds before Cat found herself face down on the now-clear surface._

_“Honesty, little cat. You’ve known who I was since me and T showed up. And you didn’t say anything. In fact, you went to a club and let another woman touch you!”_

“Hey, Cat, are you still with us?” Korsak loomed over her, his eyes narrowed. “You OK, kid? You kind of phased out; Rizzoli’s been calling your name for the last five minutes.”

Cat nodded while she pulled herself together. “I’m good. Really,” she said when Korsak didn’t appear convinced. “Guess I haven’t had enough coffee yet.”

“We can hit a Starbucks on the way.” Jane strode up. “Let’s hit the road.”

“Right behind you.” Cat would have to figure out where they were going once they were in the car. She had to trot to keep up with the much taller Jane as they left the station house and climbed into Jane’s car.

Jane didn’t say anything until she’d successfully pulled out into traffic. “What the Hell is going on with you?”

“What do you mean?” Cat played stupid and made sure to look out the window to avoid eye contact.

The car rocked to a halt as the light at the intersection turned red. “Don’t play with me, Cat. Last week, Cavanaugh came to me, singing your praises, talking about how he had a spot for another detective and how your captain had recommended you.”

“I…” Cat started to say.

“Shut up.” The light turned green. Jane stomped on the gas pedal and the car shot ahead. “I told him I thought you’d been a team player with the task force. I fucking said you were a great fucking cop and I thought you’d fit in with Korsak and Frost. I said you’d even impressed _Maura._ ” Her hand slapped against the steering wheel in frustration. “Then the damned Council goons show up and you start acting like a virgin sub in a room full of single Dominants.”

The analogy drew a reluctant laugh from Cat. If only Jane knew… She couldn’t, though. Jane could never know. “I’m sorry. Look, it’s been a rough week. I’m tired, and,” Cat decided to add a little truth to the tale, “I went out and did something stupid the other night. Played a little rougher than I should have on a school night. Your Domme and Tara tag teamed me and sent me home to write a ‘how I was stupid’ essay.”

She could see Jane relax a little. In fact, Jane smiled. “Taking risks with your health is a crash and burn offense with Maura. You’re lucky it was just a writing assignment. When I shot myself last year…” Shuddering dramatically, Jane mumbled, “I don’t think I sat down for a week. Once I’d been cleared by the doctors, of course. She still gets a fire in her eyes if I even mention Marino. Do you know she threatened to get my shield taken away?”

“No way!” Dominants couldn’t interfere in a submissive’s career field. Despite what Cat’s old teacher thought, subs weren’t incompetent doormats.

“Yes way,” Jane retorted. Her voice grew so soft Cat had to strain to hear. “Maura’s got a lot of pull, and she was worried. I’d had a shit year. Korsak and I had gotten divorced,” she said, using cop slang to indicate when two partners broke up. “A psycho tried to kill me. I was fighting to prove I still had what it took, that Hoyt hadn’t broken me. I took a lot of risks. One call to the Superintendent and I would have been on permanent dog sitting duty.”

Could Maura do that to Cat, too? Sitting up straighter, Cat vowed to get her professional life back under control. Her personal life might be a hopeless train wreck. On the job, though, Cat had more than proven herself. Once this case was over, once Faith and Tara went back to their regular jobs with the Council, the pain should get manageable again. She’d just have to suck it up.

“I’ve got my head back in the game,” Cat told Jane seriously. Then promptly ruined her assertion by asking, “Can you tell me where we’re going? I, uh, didn’t really catch that part.”

She grinned when Jane rolled her eyes and shook her head. “To interview the families of the victims. Hopefully, one of them will recognize the pin. Frost and Korsak are going to wait for the recognition programs, and Tara and Faith are headed to the Council’s Boston HQ. They’ve got a separate database.” Her voice grew mocking. “Apparently, it’s so super secret no one outside the Council has access.”

***

The next several hours kept Cat fully engaged. They started with Paula Benton’s family. As the most recent victim, it was more likely her family would remember small details like the pin. However, questioning the family members made Cat feel insensitive. They were grieving and confused. They wanted Cat and Jane to _give_ them answers, not ask seemingly useless questions.

Paula Benton’s mother hadn’t stopped crying during their visit. Her sister had threatened to file a harassment lawsuit, and Paula’s submissive Carrie had simply stared at them with a lost, broken expression.

Cat let Jane lead that particular series of questions. Cat was too raw from the last few days to stay objective in the face of Carrie’s suffering. Cat remembered when _she’d_ been just like Carrie. Her skin crawled and the cuff on her wrist grew heavy and suffocating.

“I’m sorry to have to do this,” Jane said again. She’d been repeating it since they’d arrived. “We think we have a lead in Paula’s murder. Do any of you recognize this woman or the pin she’s wearing?” She handed Carrie a photo of the woman in the crowd outside the church.

Only Carrie actually looked at it.

“I…I think I saw her once. At a party.” Carrie started to cry again, and Cat wanted to join her. This part of the job always sucked. “I don’t remember her name, though. Or even which party. P-Paula had a lot of friends.”

Jane glanced at Cat, raised an eyebrow, and tilted her head at Carrie.

“You know, Jane and I meet a lot of people every day. It gets hard to remember them later. Sometimes, though, I can tie a face to a particular place or event. Something special I _do_ remember. Like a special outfit. What were you and Paula wearing?” Struggling not to show how much she over-identified with Carrie’s pain, Cat continued to gently prod the other woman. “You said it was a party. Did your Domme buy you something new and flashy? Something to make all the other Dominants envious?”

A slight smile lightened Carrie’s expression. “Paula loved to dress me up.” Her voice drifted off and her far-away gaze made Cat’s skin crawl. “The party was private. Instead of a new dress, Paula bought…I think it was new lambskin tassels.” Carrie’s hands drifted up until they almost touched her nipples. “Paula said we’d be out too long for me to wear clamps so she ordered the tassels instead.”

It wasn’t much. However, it was a start. As they drove away from the Benton home, Jane called Korsak. “Can you dig through Benton’s financials? Her sub remembered the woman from the church at a party. Nothing else. Except Benton gave her a new pair of nipple tassels. Maybe there’s a receipt or something to give us more to go on.”

Cat couldn’t hear his reply but Jane grunted then closed the phone. “Nothing on the pin so far. Or any of the people wearing them,” Jane explained.

Perfect. Cat leaned against the passenger-side door and braced for the rest of the afternoon.

It was a good thing. Their next two stops yielded no information but left Cat limp from stress. The widowed mate of Sarah Johnson, the third victim, had been her Dom. He’d been very drunk. And he’d rambled on about Sarah. It had been difficult for Cat to stem her submissive’s need to care for a Dominant. Jane hadn’t fared much better. She’d been pale and strained by the time they left.

Victim two, Avery Little, had been Forsaken. It should have made questioning her family easier – if Cat wasn’t overly sensitive about her own status. Not to mention Avery’s mother managed to push all of Cat’s buttons within minutes of their arrival.

“I see you’re a Red Cuff, too,” she announced in ringing tones. She peered at Cat like she was a lab specimen. “Are you still mooning over your lost love or have you come to your senses the way Avery had?”

There was a clue buried in that question. Cat focused on the question and not storming out of the Little’s ostentatious home. “Avery had found a new sub?” Cat asked with a veneer of politeness.

“I’d been telling her for years it’s what she needed to do.” A hint of tears showed in Mrs. Little’s eyes. She probably wasn’t as insensitive as she appeared (although, Cat delayed making a decision on that). “She started going out more last year. Parties, clubs. I asked her to introduce me to her new friends.”

It was clear that hadn’t happened. Cat pulled out the photos of the crime scene crowds. “Ma’am, do you recognize anyone in these? Or the pin?” The pin had its own enlarged glossy photo.

Mrs. Little flipped through the stack. “I’m sorry, no, dear. None of these people are familiar.” She lost Cat’s small bit of remaining sympathy when she added, “They aren’t Avery’s type of crowd at all.” She started to hand the photos back and paused. “I do recognize this. Avery started wearing one a few months ago. She told me it was some kind of support group and that they’d been helping her.”


	8. Chapter 8

“A support group?” Cat prayed her disbelief didn’t show in her voice. She’d been to a few of those over the years. Groups of sad people telling sad stories. The success rate was miniscule – but the after-group hookup rate was through the roof.

Mrs. Little gave her a cold glare, and Cat tried not to duck her head. Damned Dominants were always pulling that trick. “Didn’t I just say that?”

“Yes, you did.” Cat choked back the polite honorific. This woman didn’t deserve it. “I just need to know which group Avery attended. Do you know where it met? Or when?”

Her questions drew no response, and Cat sighed. “Mrs. Little, I know this is difficult.” It would be for most people. Cat had her doubts about Mrs. Little. “Detective Rizzoli and I want to bring some closure, find the person responsible for Avery’s death. And we need your help to do that. Is there anything else you can tell us?” Or stay quiet and maybe Jane would let Cat beat it out of the old biddy.

Cat’s increasingly violent thoughts derailed when Mrs. Little stood up and gestured to her kneeling sub. “Please show the detectives out, pet.”

Just like that, the interview was over. The tall older man, wearing a thick leather collar and an expensive silk suit, escorted Jane and Cat to the front door. “Please have a nice day, detectives,” he intoned loudly.

As Jane started to leave, he caught her arm and said in an intense whisper. “My daughter was a wonderful, warm woman. She deserved happiness. Janelle is coping in her own way. I’m sorry.”

“It happens,” Jane assured him. “Do _you_ happen to know where Avery found her support group? Or who gave her that pin?”

“I wish I did. Avery didn’t come here often. Not after…” He glanced at Cat’s wrist cuff, the implication clear. “Janelle wasn’t very supportive, and Avery sought her own path. She saw several well-known therapists, but I’m only familiar with the first. Doctor Margaret Tinsale.”

Jane touched his hand. “Thank you. Please let us know if you remember anything else.”

With a nod, he backed away and closed the door.

“Lovely family.” Jane examined the house one last time before walking to the car. “No way would me and Frankie have done that to Ma when Pop died. Tell her, ‘No big deal, Ma. Get out there and find a new sub.’”

“Better than my parents,” Cat murmured bitterly. Getting in the car, she slammed the door with more force than necessary.

Jane joined her inside, started the car, and sat there. The purr of the engine filled the interior of the vehicle. “Me and Frankie were there for her, you know? Made sure she stayed busy. It was hard. Not smothering her. Every time she went out, even to the store, we wondered.”

Wondered if she’d come back. If she’d find a way to end the pain. Cat had heard it all. Over and over. Every time she’d talked about leaving the mental hospital where her parents had committed her. She’d watched their fear and distrust later when she was back in Dallas and exploring colleges.

“How did your parents deal with it?” Jane asked softly. She turned and looked at Cat. “How do _you_ deal? It’s every bondmate’s worst fear. The nightmare used to keep kids in line. ‘Behave or your bondmate won’t want you.’”

There was no way Cat was talking about this. She wouldn’t have done it before. She sure as Hell wasn’t doing it with Faith suddenly back in her life.

Except Jane appeared exhausted and confused. And she and Maura, _especially_ Maura, had treated her as one of the family since her assignment to the taskforce. As Jane pulled away from the curb, Cat broke. “My parents didn’t want me to go out of the house. They hired private tutors until I graduated high school, and they would have gone right on paying through college, too.” Day after day locked in the house with servants and her own thoughts.

“Guess you got out.” Jane commented quietly. “Did they see the light or did you have to bust out?”

“I ripped their hearts out.” Cat rubbed absently at her wrist cuff. “They cried. I’d never seen my father cry.” And she probably wouldn’t get the chance again. “They haven’t contacted me since I left nine years ago.” No birthday cards or Christmas gifts.  No weekly, monthly, even yearly calls to say hello or ask how she was doing. “Your mother’s lucky,” Cat said earnestly. “You didn’t put your own needs or fears in front of hers. You let her grieve and make her own decisions on how or if to move on.”

She fell silent, lost in memories.

_“How can you leave, Catherine? You have no Dominant to care for you. The doctors only agreed to release you because your father and I swore we would be here for you.” Cat’s mother, dressed in the loose, flowing robes Cat’s father favored, gripped Cat’s hand tightly. “You **need** us.”_

_Cat wrenched away. “I need to get out of here. You’re smothering me. I don’t have a life! You’ve turned me into some kind of prisoner.”_

_Her father tried to diffuse the situation in the only way he’d ever known – he tried to Dominate Cat. “Sit down, Catherine.” His voice was controlled, level, and compelling even as tears streaked his face._

_It sent Cat into a panic. She wasn’t letting him win. Not like all the other times in the past. “Go to Hell!” Grabbing the suitcase she’d lugged down the stairs, Cat ran for the door._

Cat sucked in a slow breath. God, she’d never forget the look in their eyes. They’d loved her, and they’d only wanted what they thought was best for her. Sometimes love wasn’t enough.

Needing to get the conversation back on the case and far, far away from her personal life, Cat reminded Jane, “There was no indication that any of the victims went to a support group. Not even Avery Little.”

“We have to look again.” Jane slowed to allow a jaywalker to cross the street. “Re-interview co-workers and neighbors. Someone has to know something. The party Paula Benton’s sub mentioned. If we can narrow down an approximate date, it will be easier to trace.”

***

“Jane!” Frost called across the room. “I think I’ve found that receipt you were looking for. Paula Benton made an online purchase from Marie’s Luxury Leather on November 15. I called Marie’s; one set of nipple tassels and a new kangaroo-hide flogger.”

At least something was panning out. Cat tossed her empty coffee cup into a trashcan and marked yet another possible support group off her list.

“Not much happening in November. People don’t usually party on Thanksgiving and it was too early for Christmas.” Jane stood and stretched. “Anything in her personal life? Birthday? Promotion?”

Cat fielded this question. Snagging Paula Benton’s date book from an evidence box, she scanned all the pages from November. “Nothing party-like. There are a couple of entries for dinner dates at some really pricey places. Menton and Radius. It doesn’t list who she dined with. We assumed Benton was showing her girl a good time.”

“We screwed up. Korsak, turn on your old Dom charm and see if you can get information out of the waitstaff at the restaurants.” Jane grinned at Korsak’s grumble. “You love it. Don’t lie. All those adoring subs swoon when you turn on the charm.”

“Alright, fine.” He grabbed his coat and pointed a finger at Jane. “But I’m going alone. Frost cramps my style, and you scare everybody with that full-time glower. Didn’t Angela ever tell you you’ll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar?”

His puckish smile earned him Jane’s trademark scowl. “Ma had more important things to worry about.”

“There. That look right there. Lighten up, Rizzoli. What would Maura say if your face froze like that?” Korsak winked at Cat and headed for the elevator before Jane could kill him.

“Anybody heard from the Council Wonder Twins?” Jane asked. “They’ve been gone a long time without checking in. If they’ve got a lead and didn’t loop us in…”

Cat bit back an automatic defense of Faith. She had no clue where Faith was or what she and Tara were doing. It just irked her that Jane thought they’d pull a trick like that. “You could always give them a call.” She smiled mockingly when Jane glared at her. “Just sayin’.”

“Since you’re feeling so chipper, what do you have?” Jane didn’t back down.

“I’ve got a long list of support groups which were _not_ part of our victims’ lives.” Brandishing the list, Cat said, “I had to threaten search warrants for membership rolls and promise personal visits with my closest squad of brothers in blue to get most of them to answer questions. I even faxed copies of the pin to all of them. Nothing. Not one thing.” She yawned. “There are a million and one support groups in Boston. Forsaken help groups, alcohol and drug recovery groups, ‘my dog died last week’ groups. I even found one that is supposed to help people with bad haircuts.”

The air in the room changed suddenly. Cat shivered. Without turning around, she knew Faith was in the room. Sure enough, Faith’s husky voice commented, “Hair’s important. Somebody hacks it up, you gotta hold somebody’s hand and sing _Kumbaya.”_

“Do you have a problem with that particular song, Slayer?” Tara said as they walked into the conference room holding hands.

“Think you answered the question on your own, T. Slayers and all that peace and love crap?” Faith waved her free hand at her body. “Action, T. That’s what Slayers are all about.”

“You’re in the wrong place for action,” Cat stated. She felt something twist as she watched Tara stroke Faith’s hand with her thumb. “We’re in a holding pattern unless you managed to find something?” She waited a beat and begged shamelessly. “Please?”

Tara stiffened slightly and her smile disappeared. “Dear Goddess, put that away. You’ll have every Dom or Domme in the building trying to give you what you need.”

Cat’s mouth operated without her brain’s input. “It would cut down on my trips to the club.” Her eyes widened in horror. “I didn’t just say that out loud. And…if I did, can we all forget it happened? I’m willing to pay. Name your price.”

“Too late, tiger.” Faith smirked at Cat. “Thanks for the wicked blackmail material.”

“And it has nothing to do with the case,” Jane snapped.

Frost wandered over from his usual position at his laptop. “But it was funny, Jane.” He pulled out a chair and held it for Tara. “Cat exaggerated about the lack of action. We have a couple possible leads.” He outlined their finds from the afternoon. “Korsak left a few minutes ago.”

“Well, we ain’t got much,” Faith grumbled. She waited until Tara sat down and then took her usual position on the floor at Tara’s feet.

“If we aren’t storming a vampire nest, Faith thinks the research was pointless.” Tara tapped Faith on the top of the head. “However, we do have information on the design on the pin. Barry, can you pull up the photo again?”

Frost responded immediately. “You got it.” He returned to his laptop and the wall lit up with the projected photo.

“You’re looking at Abigor’s Sigil,” Tara said. “Abigor is purported to be a high level demon, sometimes referred to as a Grand Duke of Hell.”

She had to be kidding. “A demon from Hell is killing random people and draining their blood?” Cat would have laughed if it wasn’t so completely outrageous.

“Hell Gods are real,” Tara answered soberly. “And they are very powerful. Do we have one running through the streets of Boston? I doubt it. Abigor was a warrior who commanded sixty legions of soldiers from Hell. That would include lower-level demons and the Turok Han, the original vampires. If something that powerful found a portal or climbed through a Hellmouth, the Council would know. That kind of power leaves a signature.”

“In case you don’t speak Witch, she means there’s been no ripple in the Force, boys and girls,” Faith translated.

“I don’t get what that has to do with our murders.” Jane dropped into a chair next to Cat and pillowed her head on her folded arms. “And I think I’m too tired and hungry to figure it out. Can someone order pizza?”

Cat’s stomach growled in agreement. “I’m in.”

“There was pizza on the table when Faith and I arrived two nights ago.” Tara didn’t sound impressed by the repetitive food choices. “There are two boxes on the table now. Have you eaten anything except pizza since this case started?” She waited for someone to answer her.

No one did.

“Then I veto pizza. Didn’t I see a bar nearby?” she prodded.

“The Dirty Robber,” Frost replied helpfully. “They have great burgers.” He started clearing up the various binders and file folders.

Jane’s expression indicated she wanted to object. She didn’t. Instead, she opened her phone. “I’ll have Maura meet us there.”

Good. Jane was much less crusty when Maura was around. Cat helped Frost, and in minutes they were ready to go.

***

The bar was packed. Cat recognized several officers and detectives after six weeks on the task force.  She waved to those who nodded in greeting. “I hate to admit this, but…I’m glad we’re not having pizza.”

“Don’t say that too loud, tiger. We don’t want T to get a big head.” Faith slid into the booth across from Cat.

That earned her a raised eyebrow and a “Careful, Slayer,” from Tara.

Faith merely grinned unrepentantly.

The booth filled as Frost slid next to Cat, with Jane and Maura taking seats across from each other in the remaining slots. “I don’t need a menu,” Jane flagged down a waiter and ordered a double cheeseburger and fries.

That opened the floodgates on burger orders. Except for Maura, who managed to talk the waiter into a grilled chicken sandwich with steamed vegetables. Jane shook her head and murmured something about crazy health nut Dominants.

Maura was about to respond when Jane’s ringing cell phone saved her from Maura’s wrath. “Rizzoli.” The table went silent and everyone watched her straighten. “Really? What else did she say?”

The one-sided conversation was torture. Cat wanted to steal Jane’s phone and get the full story.

“OK. Yeah. We’re at the Robber.” Jane paused and listened for a minute. “Cat called all the groups. I’ll have her go back over the list to see if we have any links. Thanks, Korsak. Tell Dana we said hello.” She closed her phone and reached for her water glass.

“You pick that up without talking, and the task force will be investigating another murder,” Cat warned.

Deliberately ignoring the threat, Jane lifted the glass and took a long sip. “That was Korsak,” she said (as if they hadn’t known). Another drink from the glass. “The night Paula Benton went to Radius, there was a private event. The charge receipt was from a group called The First Legion.”


	9. Chapter 9

Dinner was long forgotten. In fact, breakfast remains littered the tables. The conference room buzzed with activity, if not energy. They were all dragging. Over twenty-four hours on the job. Only the hope of a major break in the case kept them going.

“Cat, you got anything?” Jane was in her element. She’d been driving all of them to dig deeper. Check one more time.

Cat hated to disappoint her. “Not yet. Margaret Tinsale, Avery Little’s first therapist, has a thriving practice in Beacon Hill. I didn’t want to pull the Cop Card and tip our hand.

“And?” That one word was really Jane saying, “Get to the point.”

“Tinsale’s well-known and wealthy enough to hire law students for her phone service. Unless we wanted to get chapter and verse on the HIPAA laws and the name of Tinsale’s lawyer, I had to get creative.”  She waited a beat to give her next announcement more weight. “I called Tinsale’s service and claimed to be a prospective client referred by Janelle Little. The service found an available appointment at eight o’clock this morning.”

Jane paced in frustration. “What else do we have?”

This was Frost’s area of expertise. “I tracked the First Legion through financials and articles of incorporation. The company says it’s a social group, think Match.com only in person. They host meet and greets for Dominants and submissives in the same type of work – that’s what Paula Benton attended in November. Their online calendar also shows involvement in local charities and a variety of self-help groups. The founder, Jonathan Stewart, is scheduled to speak at several Red Cuff groups over the next few weeks.”

“Can we tie the rest of the victims to these parties?” Jane asked.

Korsak and Faith were buried in the case files. “Not yet. We didn’t find anything else in the reports or evidence.” Being Korsak, he couldn’t resist a wink at Faith (and then a charming “see I’m harmless” smile at Tara). “I thought me and the kid here could check out the venues for the last few Legion events and flash photos of the victims.”

Not looking completely convinced of Korsak’s innocent intentions, Tara nodded her reluctant approval of his plan. “Barry, I convinced the Council to grant you temporary access to their databases and online files. I sent you contact information for Willow Rosenberg. She’s in charge of Global Information Systems and Security. She’ll walk you through how to get in – and what your boundaries are. Jonathan Stewart is on the Council’s Watch List. He recently purchased bars in Boston and several other major cities on the East coast.”

“Places to host more Legion events?” Cat asked.

“We don’t think so. At least two of the purchased locations are rumored to be fronts for blood bars,” Tara answered. “Places where vampires feed on humans who think hosting is romantic or a way to immortality.”

Cat grimaced. “Yuck. Why would anyone want to do that?” Wouldn’t it hurt? And who thought blood-drinking demons were romantic?

“You got your regular sickos, tiger. In the Slayer World, we got our own.” Faith’s smile was far from amused. “Ain’t got all the pieces of the puzzle yet. I get Avery Little wantin’ to play with vamps. They Turn you, all the human memories go away. You forget you ain’t got some hot sub at home to keep you company. Had to seem like a good idea.”

The words stole Cat’s breath. There was no way Faith could understand what she’d just said, or how much they hurt.

While Cat stared blankly at the crime reports in front of her, Faith continued, “The rest of the vics didn’t seem the type.”

“Before we check out that angle, let’s see how the victims are connected to the Legion,” Jane cautioned. “The last thing we want is the press to get a hold of the idea that the murder victims were all crazed vampire worshippers.”

Career suicide for sure. Cat almost cared about that. Almost.

“Cat, meet with Tinsale.” Jane was still in General mode. “Find out if she sent Avery Little to any of the support groups Frost connected to the Legion. Then visit as many of the groups as you can. Do whatever you need to get information. The Deputy Superintendent wants an update so I’m stuck here.”

“I’ll go with Detective McClearen.” They’d all forgotten about Tara. She smiled slightly when everyone turned her way. “Some of those groups were aimed at bonded couples. I’ll tag along in case Cat needs a Domme for the Day.”

What? Cat looked from Tara to Faith – and then to Jane for help. “I’m sure Faith would be a better option.” Without warning, Cat found herself trying to preserve the clear bond between Faith and Tara. “I wouldn’t…It’s not…”

The more she verbally faltered, the wider Tara smiled.

Faith was even worse. She _laughed_. “You think you got what it takes to steal T?” Her smirk said there was no possible way.

Cat couldn’t decide if she was insulted or relieved by Faith’s faith in her bond. There was also a part of her that wanted to tell Faith that she wasn’t interested in stealing _Tara._

“You’re going to have to be brave, Detective. No one else in the task force will be able to make this work,” Tara stated sternly. “We’re hunting vampires. Taking a Slayer – even if she _is_ my sub – won’t work. The vampires would all run away. Maura isn’t loaning me Jane. And Barry,” she winked at Frost, “isn’t really my style.”

Korsak had to chime in. “I’d wear a collar for you, Ma’am.”

Even Cat laughed at that. He might look like a big teddy bear, but Cat had seen him with his sub Dana. The teddy bear had big teeth.

“Thank you, Vince.” Tara raised an eyebrow at him and nodded at the floor. He didn’t budge, and his eyes stayed level. “And with that, I’ll declare Cat my sub for today. I’m not wearing out my arm and a lot of leather to prove a point.” She and Korsak exchanged a look with weird Dominant vibes. “Take good care of my girl, Vince.”

His chuckle coincided with Faith’s “I don’t need a keeper.”

Tara’s eyes flashed the same cold blue that Cat remembered from her private conversation in the break room. However, she didn’t say anything out loud in response to Faith’s protest. From the way Faith straightened and her chin dipped, Cat suspected a very firm warning had been issued through their bond.

“I’ll make sure she comes back in once piece, Tara. Don’t you worry.” Vince smiled sunnily. “The kid and I are just going to ask some questions and maybe enjoy lunch at the South Street Diner. I’ll be the envy of every Dominant there.” Faith’s reluctant smile only made Korsak’s grow wider.

“Well, my new sub needs a change of clothes.” Tara turned her attention to Cat, who worked very hard not to squirm. “So do I. Doctor Tinsale’s clientele probably doesn’t show up in jeans or combat boots.” She didn’t appear embarrassed by her wardrobe. “Cat and I will dress the part; it would be hard to pose as a couple in need of a support group or social events once our real identities were out in the open.”

***

By the time Tara parked in front of Dr. Tinsale’s Revere Street townhouse, Cat vowed never to get in a car with anyone again. She was sick to death of uncomfortable rides. Tara had been completely silent during their short trips to Tara’s hotel and Cat’s apartment. Nothing more than polite commands to “dress to impress” and an offhand “wait in the car.”

Well, Cat wasn’t waiting in the car now. She was a detective. Tara was on her turf now. As soon as the car stopped, Cat sprang from the car. The morning was bright and bitterly cold. She pulled her silk scarf closer around her neck and flipped up the collar of her heavy thigh-length shearling coat. Matching gloves covered her fingers. The need to charge into the building and demand answers thrummed through Cat.

Unfortunately, that need warred with department policy and common sense. Tempering her impatience, Cat waited for Tara to join her on the sidewalk. The change in clothes turned Tara from hippy to Dominant power broker. Dressed in head to toe black, hair styled and loose, she could easily have stepped out of one of the neighboring Beacon Hill homes.

Tara gripped Cat by the wrist and led her to Tinsale’s front door. It opened with the gentle sound of wooden wind chimes, and a polished receptionist showed her perfectly capped teeth. “Good morning. Dr. Tinsale is with a patient. If you’ll just sign in, I’ll let you know when she’s available to begin your appointment.”

The charade began. With a gentle shove and a snap of Tara’s fingers, Cat found herself kneeling next to a chair in the very contemporary sitting room. Tara filled out the paperwork. “I’m afraid my schedule is very tight. Will Dr. Tinsale be free soon?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the receptionist assured Tara. “Dr. Tinsale understands that your time is very valuable.”

And that her fees were exorbitant, Cat thought. She shifted a little and glanced around the room through her lashes. The furniture smelled of money and made Cat glad to be kneeling on the floor. Chairs in neon reds and yellows, with oddly shaped backs and short seats, shared space with low tables that looked like blobs of cookie dough with thumbprints in the top. Contemporary artwork filled the walls. One particularly puzzling piece reminded Cat of a yellow square wrapped in white tissue paper.

Her examination ended abruptly when her eyes met Tara’s.  The black clothing enhanced the chill in Tara’s laser-like glare. “Would you have a restroom my girl and I might use?” she asked the receptionist without looking away from Cat.

Cat wiggled like a bug pinned in placed. Should she apologize?

Tara’s eyes narrowed further and her head moved ever so slightly back and forth.

Right. Apologies would only highlight Cat’s already poor behavior. She very carefully took the position Faith had been in after she’d upset Tara. _See? I can be the perfect sub_ , Cat tried to say through her posture.

“Right down this hallway. I’ll buzz you through.” The receptionist sounded sympathetic, as if she was embarrassed for Tara. “If Dr. Tinsale becomes available, I’ll let her know you needed a moment alone.”

Even though Cat was playing a part, her stomach twisted. If Cat had really been Tara’s sub, she would have done _anything_ to avoid disappointing her.

“Thank you. We won’t be long.” Tara strode to Cat and wrapped a hand in her hair. Without a word, she began walking toward the door the receptionist had indicated. Cat went with her in order to keep her hair attached to her head.

A buzz sounded and the door popped open. Tara shoved it open and dragged Cat into a small bathroom. Once the door closed behind them, Tara released Cat. “Sorry.” Her smile was strained. “I don’t normally go for the caveman approach. I suddenly realized I’d forgotten to take care of something back at the hotel.”

Cat watched in confusion as Tara unbuttoned Cat’s coat and removed the silk scarf Cat had wrapped around her neck.

“We’re supposed to be a couple, Cat.” Tara’s eyes shimmered with tears and she gently touched Cat’s face. “I’m so sorry. This isn’t going to be easy for you.” With sure hands, she removed Cat’s coat and unbuckled the cuff on Cat’s right wrist.

Disbelieving, numb, unable to move, Cat stood stock still as the red leather disappeared into Tara’s purse. Her wrist felt cold and she rubbed it uneasily. “Tara?” Her heart pounded as she finally understood what was happening. She should have known. They’d planned to masquerade as a couple. “Tara, I can’t. I _can’t_.” Even at the club, Cat was never collared. Collaring was…it was special. A symbol of more than ownership.

“Yes, you can, Cat.” Tara reached into her purse again and removed a shallow, wide box. Opening it revealed a collar similar to the one Faith wore. “Kneel, sweetie.” One hand touched Cat’s shoulder and pressed until she dropped to the floor. “I offer this collar as a sign of my commitment to you, Cat. For as long as you wear it, I give you my protection, my care, and my discipline.”

The metal links were cool when Tara wrapped them around Cat’s neck. The snick of the lock echoed in Cat’s head and she trembled violently.

“Easy, sweetie. I’ve got you.” Tara pulled Cat in close until her head rested against Tara’s stomach.  Cat felt Tara press a kiss to the top of her head – and that opened the floodgates. Tears soaked the front of Tara’s coat, and sobs ripped from her throat until they both shuddered from the force.

Through it all, Tara held on tight, whispering encouragement in Cat’s ear and stroking through Cat’s hair.

Finally, Cat managed to stop crying; although, her breath hitched in the occasional hiccup. “Sorry. I…”

A single finger pressed over Cat’s lips, stopping the apology. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Cat.” Tara gently wiped a few tears off Cat’s cheeks with her other hand. “Let’s go back into the waiting room. We need to be ready for Dr. Tinsale.” Her lips tilted in an impish smile. “And you look the picture of a perfectly disciplined and remorseful sub.”


	10. Chapter 10

Returning to the waiting room was surreal. Cat felt weighed down by the collar – and yet strangely free and weightless at the same time. Tara’s hand remained steady on the back of her neck. Solid. Anchoring. A reminder of the promise she’d made in the bathroom.

The receptionist glanced up. A curl of her lip showed her disdain for Cat’s appearance. Or the _reason_ for her appearance. That stiffened Cat’s spine. She was done embarrassing Tara. When Tara sat in one of the chairs, Cat immediately knelt at her side. She maintained the same formal pose she’d used right before her “punishment.”

The pose was hard to maintain. Cat’s body fought the position. Without a Dominant, Cat rarely knelt for long periods of time. Despite the carpet, her knees soon ached. Her thighs burned while her feet went numb. She’d just reached the realization that she would _have_ to shift around when a hidden door opened and a tall, slender woman in a tailored pantsuit emerged.

“Good morning. Thank you for waiting. I’m Margaret Tinsale.” Cat couldn’t see anything except feet and fascinating carpet fibers. From the way Tara stood and moved closer to Tinsale, she assumed they shook hands. “You’re Ms. McClearen’s Domme.” It wasn’t a question. It didn’t have to be a question. Tara’s collar gleamed around Cat’s neck.

Tara murmured a quiet, “Yes. Tara Maclay. We appreciate you finding time to see us. Janelle was very sure you’d be able to help us.” Her right hand brushed Cat’s shoulder, and Cat stood at the gentle pressure.

“Please come into my office, Tara. My service wasn’t able to provide a lot of information as to the reason for your visit.” Tinsale’s voice moved away, through the hidden doorway. Tara followed with Cat chugging along like a deaf mute caboose. “Have a seat. Would you care for a drink?” Tinsale was the perfect host.

“Water would be perfect, thank you.” Tara hesitated, and Cat nearly rear-ended her. She’d never followed a Domme in sub pose and almost didn’t read Tara’s body language in time. “Cat, get a pillow from the pile and then you may sit next to me.”

Tara must have noticed Cat’s discomfort in the waiting room. “Yes, Ma’am.” Breaking position long enough to locate the cushions, Cat chose one in an ugly floral print and took her spot at Tara’s feet. The position was far more comfortable than kneeling – and it was improved even more when Tara pulled Cat’s head in close so it rested on her thigh.

“I’m afraid Cat and I bonded late,” Tara told Tinsale with a shameless interpretation of reality. “My work…it keeps me busy and on the road. Perhaps I wasn’t as open as I should have been.”

As Tara talked, her hand brushed through Cat’s hair. With a sigh, Cat leaned into the touch. It felt so good. So…safe.  She closed her eyes and floated on the safety of Tara’s caress as she followed the conversation.

“I’m a consultant for Gachnar Enterprises.” Tara’s statement was unexpected that Cat started in surprise and the fingers in her hair went from caressing to gripping. “As you can see, Cat has yet to fully embrace her role.”

“That would be a problem,” Tinsale agreed. “In your position, you must meet clients and attend company events. You’d need a submissive that enhances your status.”

Tinsale’s comment implied that Cat was (or would be, if any of this was real) a blot on Tara’s career path. “Exactly.” Tara released Cat’s hair and placed her hand under Cat’s chin, raising Cat’s eyes from the floor. “You, sweetie, are beautiful,” she said intently while Cat blushed and tried to lower her eyes. The fingers on her chin tightened in a clear warning to keep her eyes on Tara. “Little things like this – and the scene in your waiting room – have embarrassed me and my employer.”

Tinsale stood and walked to a banquette along one wall of the office. “There are several treatment options available, Tara.”

“Would it be impetuous to say I’ll try them all?” Tara stroked her thumb over Cat’s lips. “We need a solution. Yesterday. I’ve tried discipline…”

“Poor results?” Cat hated the offhand tone in Tinsale’s voice. Not to mention that being talked about as if she wasn’t in the room made her teeth grind.

A hint of Tara’s normal half-smile flickered and disappeared. “She moves too stiffly afterward. Answering questions from colleagues and clients about her condition is just as bad as the poor behavior. And then, of course, the punishment doesn’t change the actions. There’s something more going on. Something Cat isn’t telling me.”

The visit was getting too close to reality. Cat wanted to pull away. What the hell was Tara doing? She was supposed to be _questioning_ Tinsale. The whole charade had simply been created to get them in the door. “Tara,” Cat whispered, turning her head in an attempt to hide her comment from Tinsale. “What are you doing?”

She didn’t expect Tara to stand up and move away. Cat’s hands reached after Tara and then dropped to her sides. “Tara?” Were they going to stop playing their roles now?

“I can’t do this anymore, Cat,” Tara said. Her shoulders slumped. “I can’t…be with you when you aren’t committed. You’ve shut me out of the bond. You don’t share your thoughts or needs with me.” Tara was definitely still in character. When she met Cat’s eyes, Cat came to her feet immediately. Tara was _crying!_ “How can I take care of you if you won’t tell me how?”

“Tara, I…” Cat crossed the room in two quick strides, intent on holding her. Offering comfort.

Only Tara moved away again. And Tinsale was suddenly in the middle of things. “Tara, please. Why don’t you take a moment? Take some time to compose yourself. Let me talk to Cat alone.” Wrapping an arm around Tara’s shoulders, she steered her to a different door than they’d originally used. “I have a private sitting and restroom through here. I’ll come get you in a few moments.”

Cat felt completely abandoned when the door closed behind Tara. She faced Tinsale uneasily, hands clenching and unclenching at her sides.

Tinsale made no attempt to force Cat to resume her position on the floor. In fact, she appeared to ignore her completely and returned to her seat behind the desk. Cat divided her attention between the doctor and the closed door.

“Bring her back,” Cat finally said. She couldn’t take the silence and she had no intention of playing whatever game Tinsale had in mind. She just wanted to see Tara and make sure she was alright.

Leaning back in her chair, Tinsale examined Cat closely. “Why?”

“Because she was crying, damn it. Tara shouldn’t be crying.” What the Hell was wrong with the woman? Cat spun and stared at the door.

“You’re the one who made her do that. You’re the only one who can fix it.” Tinsale’s voice sharpened. “Tell me why you’re blocking your bond.” The command was impressive but Cat easily ignored it. Tinsale wasn’t Domme enough to control her.

When Cat didn’t respond, Tinsale tried another line of attack. “I think you’re angry, Cat. Angry and lashing out. Talk to me about that. If you really want to help Tara – and I know you do – you need to figure out why you act the way you do.”

Slowly, Cat pivoted to face Tinsale. She had to remember this was an act. They needed Tinsale to refer them to support groups which might link them to the First Legion. “I don’t know. I…I never…” Cat floundered, trying to stay in character. She had no idea what to say or do. Tara should have filled her in on the plan before they arrived.

“How did you feel when you bonded with Tara? You’re a lot older than most people. Did you think it would never happen?” Tinsale’s soft questions prodded Cat.

“I’d given up.” As soon as she said the words, Cat knew how to handle Tinsale. She’d follow Tara’s lead and mix reality with fiction. “I’m twenty-seven. I have…had a life.” Tinsale disappeared from the room. In her place, Cat imagined Faith behind the desk and directed her comments at Faith. “You weren’t there when I needed you. I’m not blocking the link. _You_ are. I can feel it. Why can’t you?” Cat was dimly aware she was yelling at Tinsale/Faith. “Why won’t you let me in? What did I do to make you hate me enough to shut me out?”

Her last plaintive shout echoed through the room, and Cat realized she was soaked in sweat and tears. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.” Dropping into a chair, she covered her face with her hands. She was losing it, airing her private issues while undercover on a case.

“Don’t be sorry.” Tinsale smiled and came around the desk to crouch next to Cat. “It was honest, and that’s what Tara wants, isn’t it, Cat? She wants you to be honest about your feelings, about what you need from her. Dominants need to feel needed. They need to care for and protect their submissives. Tara can’t do that if you won’t talk to her.”

Cat had been thankful when Tinsale had begun speaking. She hadn’t blown their cover. She was sucking Tinsale into their charade. She was still confused, though. Tara and Faith had become inextricably intertwined.  “What if…what if I don’t know what I want?” she asked through her hands.

“That’s why you and Tara are here. To find out what you want. What Tara wants, and how to bring all those wants together.” Tinsale gently pulled Cat’s hands away from her face. “Let me ask Tara to come back in, and let’s talk about where we go from here.”

As soon as the door opened, Tara made a beeline for Cat. She peered deeply into Cat’s eyes, holding Cat steady.

“She’s fine, Tara.” Tinsale smiled and sat down, pulling a file from her desk. “Cat and I had a chat, and I think she’s ready to open up. I’d like to schedule further one-on-one sessions with you both. However, I think you’d also benefit from meeting other couples as well.” She held out a sheaf of papers. “I work with some truly dedicated groups. They meet once or twice a week, informally.”

“I’m not sure…” Tara pulled Cat to her feet, sat down in the chair, and resettled Cat on her lap. “Groups don’t seem to be what we need.”

Tara’s comment earned a nod from Tinsale. “You may be right. Yet you indicated you are recently bonded. And Cat shared with me that she isn’t sure what she needs from you. I think she’s been on her own so long she’s having a hard time letting you care for her. Seeing the way other bonded couples interact will help both of you define _your_ relationship.”

Cat balanced on Tara’s knees and took the proffered hint at Tara’s gentle nudge. Feeling slightly ridiculous – she wasn’t a little girl – she started to climb down until Tara’s arms wrapped firmly around her middle. “What about something for just Cat? We spend time together when I’m home, on rare occasions. And I have her with me for company events. But she’s often alone. Are there groups where she could go to talk to other subs in similar situations?”

***

They left the office twenty minutes later, Cat following Tara to the car. “What did you think?” Tara asked once they were both safely buckled in.

Cat shook her head. “I think we’re going to spend the next several hours wasting our time. She was professional. She asked the right questions.” She’d managed to get Cat to say things she’d never even known had bothered her. “The list of groups she gave us… I’m familiar with several of them. In fact, I’ve even referred victims’ families to a few. They’re reputable.” She rubbed her temple. Fake visits to therapists were emotionally exhausting. Cat’s head throbbed dully. “You did an awesome job in there, Ma’am. You even had me convinced I was some pampered eye candy you hauled to business functions.”

Tara’s giggle filled the car, and Cat smiled at the sound. She glanced over, enjoying Tara’s carefree expression, too. She really was very pretty. “If I ever went to those events,” and her shudder indicated that would never happen, “I’d be afraid to let you out of my sight. I’d have to keep you leashed so no one tried to steal you away.”

A slow flush crawled up Cat’s neck. She could feel an ephemeral leash clipped to her collar. Feel the pressure as Tara tightened her hand around it, shortening the slack and keeping her possessively close.

“You have the list. Where should we start?” Tara started the car and raised an eyebrow at Cat.

Running through the names on the list, Cat mentally marked off the ones she knew. If they didn’t find anything in any of the others, Jane and Maura could try those. Cat couldn’t pose as a collared sub there. Someone would recognize her. “Passionate Couples. They claim to help couples learn to communicate and set them up with other groups of like-minded people. If that’s not a lure for the First Legion, they are missing an opportunity.”

Unfortunately, Passionate Couples’ organizer was a thin, pale young man who stared earnestly at Tara and preached the need for honest, open conversation between her and Cat. He was a little overzealous, but Cat’s cop instincts didn’t see him as a recruiter for the Legion.

After the next two failed stops, at Hurting Relationships and Understanding the Real You, Cat was more comfortable in her role. She didn’t chafe at kneeling at Tara’s feet, enjoyed the way Tara constantly touched her in small ways, and felt ten feet tall when Tara murmured a soft, “good girl” when she’d done something to please her. It became a struggle to be rich, spoiled, unhappy Cat as they met and talked with the people behind the various groups.

They managed to visit every group on the list – and a few Tinsale hadn’t mentioned but that Cat remembered from her research. She’d earmarked Dominants and Submissives Together as a possible escort service. Learning to Love was in a part of Roxbury that Cat wouldn’t visit again without her shield and weapon. There was no way Avery Little had been a member of the group. The pinnacle of Cat’s day, however, had been when another prospective group member for Love Never Lies offered to teach Tara how to keep Cat in line.

Who knew Tara used that kind of language?

Tara marched Cat back to the car so fast Cat had to trot to keep up. “He’s lucky I’m pretending to be a software consultant. If I wasn’t… I have the perfect spell to turn him into a rat!” She fumed as they pulled out of the parking lot and sped down the street. “I don’t need a bigger whip. Dominance has _nothing_ to do with forcing someone to obey. A real Dominant finds a way to convince the submissive they _want_ to do what is asked because it pleases their Dominant.”

Cat didn’t argue. She’d heard plenty of discussions from both perspectives of this particular Dominant/submissive issue. She sat back and let Tara vent as they inched along in rush hour traffic. The stillness and growing dark reminded Cat she’d been up for a very long time.

When the diatribe faded, Cat noticed Tara watching her with furtive, sideways glances.

“Is something wrong, Ma’am?” Tara had probably been up even longer than Cat. She and Faith _had_ already been at the station house when she’d arrived yesterday morning. “Do you need me to drive for a while?” She could even call for a radio car escort to clear a path for them.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Tara answered immediately. Then she sighed. “Sweetie, you don’t have to call me ‘Ma’am’.”

Cat knew that. Faith didn’t use it. Yet it felt right. She wore Tara’s collar, at least for now. Something about wearing the collar made every interaction with Tara different somehow. “Do…do you want me to stop?”

“Not if you need to use it, Cat,” Tara said quietly. “I promised, remember? As long as you belong to me, I will give you whatever you need.” Her right hand settled on Cat’s left thigh. “Anyway, I’m not tired. I’m used to these kinds of hours. They come with the Council ID. I know you’re tired, though.  Close your eyes and rest while I…drive us back.”

Her touch drew away some of the pain from Cat’s lingering headache. “’kay,” she mumbled indistinctly. Tara was right. She was so very tired.

***

Cat woke when the car stopped moving. “Where are we?” It wasn’t the station house. In fact, this house was huge and set well back from the road behind them.

“Maura and Jane’s.” Tara swallowed audibly. “Come on. I called to tell them we were coming.” She avoided Cat’s eye and climbed out of the car. She waited for Cat at the front of the car, and guided her inside with a hand at the back of Cat’s neck.

The door opened before they reached the front steps. “Tara. Cat.” Maura stared for a moment at that hand before stepping back and allowing them to enter.

It was no secret Maura had money. The interior of the house, though, was warm and homey. Cat loved the large, open living room and the shiny hardwood floors. A fire burned in a large fireplace along one wall. Despite the charming atmosphere and Maura as their host, Cat was uneasy. Something was wrong. Tara appeared strained.

“Cat,” Tara said seriously, “I wanted to make sure Maura and Jane were here. Today couldn’t have been easy for you, and I d-don’t think you sh-should be alone tonight.” Tara’s sudden stutter, her clear unhappiness…

“Tara?” Cat looked at Maura for help and found none. Maura, too, looked stressed and unhappy.

With a pale imitation of her usual smile, Tara approached and pressed down on Cat’s shoulders until she knelt on the floor. “Cat McClearen, I have been honored by your service, by the grace you have shown in my collar. At this time, I release you from your commitment.” The sound of the collar unlocking was like a gunshot in the room, and it left Cat bleeding deep inside.


	11. Chapter 11

Voices from the television played in the background. Some kind of sport…football? Cat tuned out the cheering and Jane’s occasional “Are you blind? How can you miss that?”

She was so cold. Not even the blanket Maura had carefully tucked around her helped with the chill. The cold was _inside_ Cat. It also meant Cat’s emotions were frozen. After that first initial shooting pain as Tara removed the collar, Cat hadn’t felt much of anything. She was numb...and cold.

“Cat, would you like something to drink?” Maura didn’t quite hover. She’d been in and out of the room, rearranging pillows and poking at the logs in the fireplace. Cat knew she was worried. At another time, she might have appreciated it. Right now, she simply wanted to be alone.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Cat replied politely.

Maura hesitated. “You’re not fine, Cat. Depression is a very common reaction to such a disappointment.”

Disappointment? Cat stroked her throat. Her bare throat.  Tara had given her a glimpse of Heaven and then taken it right back. Disappointment didn’t begin to cover it. It wasn’t worth an argument, however. Turning her head and resting her cheek on the back of the couch, Cat watched the fire.

It wasn’t enough to get rid of Maura. She sat down on a coffee table a few feet from Cat’s position on the couch. “You’ve dealt with unimaginable loss since your bond was broken, and I know you’ve worked hard to put that behind you.”

Cat would have laughed if she’d had the energy. Or cared enough to correct Maura’s confusion. She hadn’t put anything behind her. In fact, her past had followed Cat, and her name was Faith. “I really am fine,” she said again.

Frustration flickered briefly over Maura’s face before she controlled it. “You’re not fine, Cat,” she repeated and Cat came off the couch in a rush. Domme or not, Maura needed to let this go.

Damned Dominants never took a hint. Maura met her and they stood toe to toe. “Do you want to tell me again how you feel?” she demanded.

“No.” Cat was done talking about her feelings. Shaking her head, Cat dropped back onto the couch and wrapped the blanket tightly around her body. She wasn’t talking _or_ fighting.

“Anger, denial...” Maura’s hand reached out, hesitated, and then dropped away without making contact. “I think you should schedule an appointment with your therapist. It’s a suggestion, Cat. I won’t go to Lieutenant Cavanaugh. I trust you to know when to ask for help.” With one last, searching look, Maura left Cat alone in the room.

Maura trusted Cat. Funny. _Cat_ didn’t trust Cat. Too much was happening all at one time. The case and task force. Faith. Tara and her collar.

Cat was floundering. One minute she was so high she was flying – like today with Tara. The next, she was so low she thought about eating her gun. She’d been aware of being alone for a long time. No one put on a Red Cuff without a big, gaping hole in his or her emotions and hearts. Today, though, had magnified that lack for Cat.  Today had expanded the black hole deep inside where her bond had once been until it was so large it threatened to suck away her entire existence.

She relived, over and over, the warmth of Tara’s collar on her neck. The connection she’d felt with her new Domme - even without a bond - changed everything...and nothing. Because now the collar was gone. Cat could still feel it nestled against her throat until she reached to touch it and found only skin.

***

“Damn it, Maura. Your turtle chewed a hole in my socks!” Jane’s voice was outraged, and it woke Cat from her uneasy doze. “It’s the third pair this week.”

Even though Cat couldn’t see Maura, it wasn’t hard to imagine her cool expression as she answered. “Bass is a tortoise, Jane. I don’t understand why I have to explain the difference to you every day. Although both turtles and tortoises are reptiles from the Testudines family, turtles are water dwelling. Tortoises, on the other hand, reside on land.”

The tortoise in question raised his head and peered over the edge of the couch at Cat. “Don’t look at me, Bass. I just woke up,” she mumbled. God, her head hurt. There was an entire marching band doing a half-time show behind her eyes.

“Did you leave your socks on the floor again?” Maura asked, and Cat put the blanket back over her head. It sounded like Jane was about to get a lecture on following basic household rules and Cat wasn’t up to listening. Unfortunately, the blanket wasn’t thick enough to block out Maura’s voice. “I believe we discussed Bass’ eating habits and his delicate digestive system last week. And, correct me if I’m wrong, Jane. You agreed to put your socks in the hamper.”

Jane didn’t answer, and Cat dragged herself off the couch. It was clearly time for a shower and a change of clothes. The movement increased the percussion section in her head. Advil. Shower, clothes, and Advil. “Don’t eat anymore socks, Bass. I’ve seen Jane work out. Not to mention she’s on the job for days at a time. Those things’ll kill you.” Vaguely remembering Maura giving directions to the guest room, Cat staggered in that direction.

Hot water and painkillers weren’t miracle cures, but she would live. Was that good or bad? Staring into the bathroom mirror, Cat could see the tightness around the corners of her eyes from the headache. The rest of the maelstrom inside was invisible. Cat dressed in the pair of designer blue jeans Maura had left out for her. They fit except for the three inches of extra material at her ankles. The chambray shirt was better. Pasting on a smile, Cat followed the smell of food to the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she said with as much enthusiasm as possible. The edge of mockery in her tone was an unplanned bonus.

Maura and Jane jerked apart. Jane’s hair stood out in rumpled, asymmetrical spikes thanks to the hold Maura had had on the strands. Her blouse was untucked along one side and at least half the buttons were undone down the front. “Hey!” Jane’s response was too loud and overly casual. She apparently didn’t know how to treat Cat after yesterday.

“Thanks for the clean clothes.” Cat leaned against the large central island and kept her gaze fixed out of the window behind the sink.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Cat could sense Maura and Jane observing her and refused to react. “I made some scrambled egg whites, whole-grain muffins, and yogurt. There’s orange juice in the refrigerator.” Maura, the consummate Domme, was still trying to take care of Cat.

Cat didn’t want Maura to coddle her. She wanted to skip breakfast, not to mention this stiff and awkward scene. If she did, though, Maura would never leave her alone. “Muffins sound great,” she lied. “Mind if I pack some for the road? Tara,” the name came out slightly choked, probably from the sudden constriction in Cat’s throat, “and I only managed the couples’ groups. I need to hit all the singles groups today.” As she carefully wrapped three muffins in a paper towel, Cat had to glance at Jane. “You and Frost will have to check out a few. I’ve worked with them before, Victim Assistance,” she clarified.

She hated the pity in Jane’s eyes. “No problem. We could even pick up the rest, if you wanted.” Translation: You fell apart last night and I don’t know if I trust you to do your job today.

Holding back an angry retort, Cat managed a cool, “I’ll do it.” She even forced an almost-natural wink and smile. “After last night, I’ll be able to play the poor, pitiful Red Cuff to the hilt. It should bring the Legion right to my door.”

Her acting was good enough to convince Jane and Maura it was time to leave for the station house. Cat sat quietly in the back of Maura’s Prius with her eyes closed. She needed to plan out the day. There were a lot of groups on the list. Which ones offered the best option for connecting with the First Legion?

What were they looking for? What was the Legion’s purpose? How did they choose their victims? Somehow, Cat had to figure it all out and become a target. Avery Little would be her guide. Cat would follow Avery’s footsteps.

As soon as Maura dropped Cat and Jane at the station, Cat made a beeline for Frost’s workstation. “I need Avery Little’s financials. Bank and credit card statements for the last six months.” If Avery had been attending a support group multiple times a week, chances were she’d bought gas, had dinner, or visited a coffee shop in the same area.

He gave her a questioning look before digging an expandable file out of a box. “You don’t look so hot. Everything OK?  If you need to talk…”

Fantastic. Was she so transparent that everybody knew how she felt? “I don’t…” Cat began sharply and then bit the words back. It wasn’t Frost’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just was. “Thanks, Barry. I’m not ready to talk about it yet.” Taking the files, she retreated to a quiet and oddly uncluttered corner of the room.

It didn’t take long to find a starting point for the day. Dozens of purchases in the North End over a six-week span, all on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. Cat quickly crosschecked the area with her list of support groups. The list of fifteen groups shrunk to two top contenders: Living with Loss and Starting Over. She mapped out the other groups as well, listing the three that Frost and Jane would need to investigate.

“I’ll be back later,” she announced to the group – really just Frost and Jane. The rest of the core group had yet to arrive. Before Jane could stop her, Cat tossed the list of groups onto the table in front of her. “I’ll do the ones at the top. The ones at the bottom I told you about earlier.” Cat hurried from the room and tried to convince herself she wasn’t running away.

She could have waited for the rest of the team to arrive. She _should_ have. Korsak and Faith might have discovered something about the Legion social events.

The flood of relief as Cat started the car convinced her not to go back inside. Jane would call if they found anything. With every new intersection, Cat relaxed more. This had been a good idea. She needed alone time, and she was the only one on the team who could pull off this piece of the investigation.

Who knew? Being Forsaken actually had an upside.

Living with Loss utilized a series of rental offices over a barbershop at the corner of Hanover and Clark. Cat took a moment to look around the neighborhood. North End was popular with young professionals like Avery Little. People walked or biked to the cluster of restaurants and trendy shops. Those that drove parked Hybrids nose to tail with minivans.

It was the perfect hunting ground, Cat thought. She located the outer door to the office suites and rang the buzzer for Living with Loss.

“Yes?” Cat thought the voice emanating from the tiny speaker was male.

“Yeah, I’m here about the support group,” she answered.

No buzz announced the door had unlocked. “It’s Wednesday. The group meets on Tuesday and Thursday nights. Come back tomorrow at six thirty.

He had to be kidding. “Look. Last week’s _Globe_ said there were over 200,000 Red Cuffs in Boston according to the latest census data. You expect me to believe you only meet in the evenings? ‘Cause you don’t like soccer moms or overnight Wal-mart shelf-stockers? Open the fucking door so I can get some support.”

“Come on up. Third door on the left.” The door buzzed and then popped open. Cat trotted up the stairs and hid her smirk of triumph.

The door on the left was unmarked. Not even a plaque adorned the wall. She paused and looked around. This was a busy area. Real estate prices were at a premium, and this place appeared deserted. For the first time, she wondered how a support group afforded the rent on a unit in North End. The Starting Over group met in a church basement. Most of the couples’ groups from yesterday had been in similar locations unless they were funded by private medical groups or governmental agencies. Nothing about the Living with Loss office fit with Cat’s experiences.

All of Cat’s instincts screamed for her to call for backup. Instead, she squared her shoulders and opened the third door on the left.

The interior was a letdown. The office was tiny and guarded by a yuppie sitting at an antique roll top desk. “You really should wait for the session tomorrow,” he said without preamble. “It’s got more people in it. This morning’s group is kind of invitation only.”

“I have an invitation.” Cat made a show of patting down her pockets. “Must have lost it. Found a flyer at a Laundromat over by The Old North Church. Will this work?” She shoved her right wrist at him, the leather cuff on display.

He stared at it – and at Cat. “Go on in. I already let them know you’d be joining.” Making no effort to get up or escort her into the session, he pointed down a narrow hallway. “Go for it.” He rated an “F” on both receptionist skills and support.

That didn’t stop Cat. She followed the pointing finger and opened another door into an airless, windowless room. Eight people sat in a circle in the center of the space. Right on cue, they all looked at her.

“Welcome.” If the guy at the front desk had been a pampered poster boy, the session leader was a wolf in wolf’s clothing. Faded desert camouflage pants tucked into well-worn black tactical boots. He’d tried to lighten the killer effect with a bright red t-shirt with an image of the smiling Kool-Aid Man, but Cat wasn’t fooled. “I’m Thomas.”

Maybe Cat shouldn’t have come alone. She took a half-step back and then stiffened. She was here to do a job. Thomas could back the Hell off. “Cat.”

There was a mini-standoff as neither of them said more or moved.

After a long minute, one where Cat fought the need to shift or flee every second, Thomas chuckled. “Have a seat. You’ve missed most of our guest speaker’s presentation, but we’ll give you a chance to meet and greet after Helen finishes enlightening us.” He gestured to a dumpy woman in an ugly wool dress and death-defyingly high heels. “She’s our guest speaker this evening.”

Cat settled into an empty chair and pretended to give her attention to Helen. She was really checking out the rest of the group. Most of them didn’t set off Cat’s internal warning system. Indulging in a little playtime, Cat guessed at their backgrounds and reasons for being at the session. Helen was easy. Widowed middle-class submissive who’d bonded with an absentee Dominant. This group was her escape from suburban boredom. Two men were bonded. They sat a little too close, shared one too many heated glances. College professors, probably. Both had heavy satchels with books peeking over the tops. Why were they there? What loss qualified them for membership?

The rest of the room… Cat gave them a quick once-over and stopped looking. They made her skin crawl, and Thomas continued to be the biggest creepy-crawler of them all.

“…and it’s imperative that we own our destiny.” Helen was prattling on. Cat stifled a yawn and stretched her legs out. “Just because society declares us Red Cuffed anathemas doesn’t mean we have to hide our true selves.”

At least Cat had missed most of the speech. She thought Helen might have flashed a peace sign in a different era. She reeked of anti-establishment philosophies and was probably a good match for the College Twins.

Cat couldn’t figure out the rest of the group members. That was bad. She was a trained observer. She should be picking up _something._ Cat was so lost in thought that she flinched when Thomas stood up again.

Of course, he noticed. “Cat, are you afraid? This is a place of safety.” Sure it was, Cat thought. “We’ll start off the introductions so you feel more at home here.” He gave her a smile which didn’t help her relax. “I’m Thomas. My submissive passed away three years ago in a car accident. I had no family until I joined the first Living with Loss support group.”

It was all a lie. Cat restrained the urge to jump up and challenge Thomas and his story. It was calculated for sympathy – and he was getting it in spades from Helen and the men. However, Cat _had_ lost her bondmate. Even fifteen years later, she couldn’t talk about it without tearing up. Thomas might as well have been reading off a cue card.

She took mental notes as Helen talked about her beloved Fred, an international banker, who’d suffered a fatal heart attack last year. Helen was legit. She sobbed, and Cat winced at her obvious grief. John and Albert were visiting professors at Boston University School of Theology. No big, gaping hole in their hearts. They were “ _bleeding_ hearts” who came to offer support (and money, Cat suspected).

The final three guests introduced themselves. Cat could have filled entire notebooks with her observations even though they offered very little information. Each deferred to talk about their history claiming to be new. New but invited? Cat wondered. Dominik spoke with a heavy, Germanic accent. His eyes were dead. He sat away from the group, as much an observer as Cat, but more obvious. She hoped.

Reid looked like a bouncer or bodyguard. His pea-sized head was mounted on a nonexistent neck above mountainous shoulders. Tattoos covered both arms and emerged from the neck of his skin-tight black shirt.

And then there was Alina. She defied description because she was just so amazingly unremarkable. Brown hair, pale gray or blue eyes, average height and weight. Even her voice was nondescript. Cat might have written her off as not important until Alina turned to say something to Dominik. Alina talked with her hands, and the light glinted off a ring on her right hand. A ring Cat thought was embossed with Abigor’s Sigil.

Pay dirt.

Cat filed it all away and then realized it was her turn. “I’m Cat.” No one dared to repeat her name or say hello after she glared around the circle. “My bondmate left me fifteen years ago. Not dead. No. She just…disappeared from the link. And then out of the blue, she turns up at my job a couple of days ago. Gorgeous. Perfect.” Cat paused for effect and to push back the explosive rage that fought to escape. “Did I mention she’s not only bonded to someone else, she’s a submissive?”

She received an entirely unwanted and smothering hug from Helen, who also cried for her. The other group members were less effusive but no less supportive. She endured another thirty minutes of pointless questions and comments about the best way to deal with grief, to learn to love herself. When the session broke up, Cat milled around until Thomas was free. “Thomas?”

He turned and smiled. He needed to stop doing that. It didn’t work with his intense stare. “Cat. I hope you enjoyed your first session and that you think Living with Loss will give you the help and support you need.”

Actually, Cat really needed more time to study the group and to get recruited. “I don’t know. This wasn’t your normal group. The guy at the desk said I should come tomorrow night…” She let her voice trail off, leading Thomas to hopefully take the bait.

“Yes, this was a more advanced group, but I thought you fit in perfectly. You are welcome to join us again; this particular session meets every Wednesday at nine.” Thomas put his hand on Cat’s shoulder and she tried not to tense noticeably. “However, come to tomorrow night’s session, too. I’ll introduce you to the group members as well as some of our other counselors.”

There it was. Cat’s foot had slipped inside the doorway of opportunity.

 


	12. Chapter 12

After leaving the group session, Cat sat in her car and watched the building. This was the right group. No doubt about it. Thomas, Alina, Dominik, and Reid were all part of the First Legion. She knew it in her gut. Now she needed to prove it. She’d follow the first one of four who left, and in the meantime, Cat checked in with Jane.

Jane picked up on the first ring. “Rizzoli.”

“It’s Cat. I think I have a lead.” Cat didn’t waste time with niceties. “Can you have Frost check out a group called Living with Loss? One of the women had a ring with the Abigor Sigil. Alina, no last name. And a Thomas, Dominik, and Reid. Reid could be ex-military.” Damn. She should have paid more attention to his tattoos.  “Dominik’s foreign. German, maybe. Or Slavic.”

“Anything else?” Voices came through the phone along with Jane’s question. Cat recognized Tara’s voice asking Jane how Cat was feeling. “Look,” Jane began, “you left in a hurry this morning. Are you sure...”

No! Tara didn’t have the right to ask that question. Damn Jane for caving in to Domme pressure and passing it along. “I’ve got to go,” she said tightly and hung up. Her hands shook from a heady mix of anger and unreasoning panic. Throwing the phone across the passenger seat helped. A little. The car was closing in on her. She had to get out. Get some air.

Shoving the door open, Cat hurtled from the car, narrowly avoiding a car driving by. She moved to a safer location on the sidewalk and leaned her back against the car. One breath, hold. Out. Another in. Out.

 _“You’re fine. Just relax. Breathe in and out. Slowly. Let me see you try.”_ Some of the pressure eased as Tara’s voice whispered through Cat’s memory. Tara.

Cat’s emotions turned on a dime. Tara was the cause of all of Cat’s problems since she’d come to Boston with Faith. Hands fisting, Cat wished Tara was there on the sidewalk. She wanted a chance to tell her all the ways she’d made Cat’s life a living Hell. Faith. First and always, there was Faith. Tara had taken Faith from Cat. Tara kept Faith from remembering. Tara had turned Faith into something she wasn’t. A submissive.

Anger burned inside Cat. She focused on that, venting internally.

“Are you alright?” The comment was so similar to the ones Cat had heard since last night she didn’t realize an actual person (and not a voice in her head) had asked it.

Her eyes shot open. “What?”

Alina regarded her with what might have been a smile. “You looked upset. Was it the session? We’re really there to help, not make things worse.” Without crowding Cat, she turned and mimicked Cat’s pose against the side of the car. “I’m sorry about your Domme. I don’t understand how things like that happen.” Her voice was strangely compelling. It soothed without being suffocating or pitying.

“Mmm.” Cat didn’t know how to respond. It wasn’t a question, and it didn’t really matter why she’d lost her bond. With Faith in Boston, Cat’s only question was how to make her remember.

“Have you tried to tell your Domme about the bond?” Cat thought Alina might have read her mind until she continued. “That’s what I’d do. I think I’d be so mad I’d confront her.”

Why hadn’t Cat thought of that? “I don’t...I...What would I say?” In a squeaky imitation of her own voice, Cat said, “Hey, can you tell me why you abandoned me? I was twelve. Do you have any idea what your leaving did to me?” She was getting worked up again. Her hands ached from being clenched so tightly. “Not to mention Tara.” She was too caught up in the inner scene to realize she’d mentioned Tara by name. “What does she have that I don’t? How did she turn you into a sub? You used to be so strong. Even if we hadn’t met, I was yours. You never let me get away with anything!” 

A couple of people walking by gave her wide-eyed looks and hurried away. Cat suddenly realized she was venting in public. Loudly. All this new therapy might be enlightening but it was also eroding her self control.  She needed to get a grip – and remember she wasn’t talking with Alina to become her best friend. Pacing back and forth along the length of the car, Cat bottled the anger and bitterness one more time. When she felt back in control, she stopped in front of Alina. “I’m sorry. We aren’t in session anymore. You didn’t stop to hear me whine.”

For such a colorless woman, Alina had a very full laugh. “Whining isn’t for people like you and me. Whiners don’t get angry. They’d never go after what they want. And you sounded ready to take what you want, Cat.”

“I haven’t done a great job of that up to now,” Cat admitted. It was the truth. Why had it taken so long to realize it? “A year in the loony bin and fourteen years of shrinks... The whole time I’ve been waiting for Super Domme to wake up and realize I was there.” Doctor Blaylock couldn’t hold a candle to Margaret Tinsale and one creepy support group.

“Now you’re ready to turn over a new leaf. Push past Super Domme and Tara – or roll right over them.” Alina sounded approving. “Not bad for one group session.”

Tilting her head back and gazing into the bright sky, Cat said with a touch of arrogance, “I’m a fast learner. What else do you have for me?” Alina was the key to the entire investigation. Cat needed to keep her interested and talking

Instead of picking up the verbal gauntlet, Alina straightened and looked at her watch. “It depends on you, Cat. How committed are you to changing your life?”

This was the critical moment. Cat had to get it right or go home empty handed. Cat waited for a long, deliberate moment. “How committed? I’m tired,” she finally answered. In the last two days, she’d let her personal and professional lives intertwine so tightly they were nearly a single strand. It had so far been a success for the investigation. She purposefully didn’t think about the disastrous visit to Ninth Circle or her interactions with Tara yesterday. The investigation was all that mattered. The investiagtion meant telling Alina not what Cat the Cop should say, but what Cat the Person _wanted_ to say. “I wake up every morning, go to work, and play for the crowd. My boss and co-workers think I’m fantastic. I don’t have to burn personal days if my Domme gets sick and needs me to make her soup or wipe her nose. I lie to myself and my therapist. I’m fine. I’m starting to move on. Really what I do is let all the pain and anger build up until I can’t take it anymore, and then I hit hole in the wall clubs. Violence and sex cure a whole lot of heartache.”

She turned and met Alina’s pale eyes. “I’m done with that. I want to be a whole new person. I want to stop lying. I want to tell my Domme she can be happy on her fucking knees. Or…” Reigning in, Cat considered her next move. Alina had mentioned confronting Faith or “rolling over” Tara. She decided to push. The First Legion wasn’t a quilting society. There was a string of bodies tied to them. “What I really want is to be the person who can take Tara out of the picture and control my future. Tell me how.”

Alina narrowed her eyes and assessed Cat’s sincerity. Cat stared right back using the expression she’d honed breaking up drug deals and gang wars during a stint in Dorchester.

It worked just as well with Alina as it did with the Cape Verdean crews in Uphams Corner.

Alina reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a business card. “I heard you tell Thomas you wanted to attend the regular group sessions. Don’t.” Her hand snapped up to forestall Cat’s inevitable question. “You’re beyond the beginners. You know what you feel and what you want to do. Come to the address on the card tonight at eight. It’s not a support group, just a bunch of people like you who want to change their lives. Tell the doorman you’re my personal guest.” With one last nod, Alina strode swiftly away.

Cat watched Alina disappeared around a corner two blocks away before really examining the card in her hand. Abigor’s Sigil shone in gold against a black background. The First Legion, an Army of Change. Climbing back into the car, Cat noticed several missed calls from Jane and an unfamiliar number in the 614 area code.  The phone icon showed five new messages. Too bad. They’d have to wait. It was after eleven now. She had to bring her A-game to the First Legion meeting tonight – and that meant sleep.

***

By the time Cat pulled into a parking lot adjacent to the First Legion’s Congress Street address, her phone had been off for hours. It had buzzed so often as she tried to sleep that Cat had had no choice. To keep Jane from sending a radio car to her apartment or placing an all-points bulletin out on her car, she’d been sure to text Jane about following a clue before she’d powered off. She’d also included a promise to check in as soon as she had something concrete.

Cat hadn’t lost all sense of priority, however. She got out of the car and checked that the knife sheath strapped to her calf didn’t show. Her badge and gun were locked in a safe in the trunk of her car. No way was she risking being outted as a cop tonight. Cat turned her phone back on and activated the app which allowed her to record voice notes. It was the best listening device she could manage at the moment. 

It was show time.

Cat strode across the street and up to the dimly lit entrance to the bar. Unlike Ninth Circle or any of the trendy clubs downtown, Cat didn’t think the lack of lights was to set a mood. There was no velvet rope or line of hopeful couples waiting to be waved in. “Alina invited me,” Cat told the Reid-clone at the door. She flashed the business card from that afternoon.

“Welcome to the First Legion,” he intoned. Not much personality there. Cat hoped the rest of the party-goers were livelier.

“Thanks.” Ducking past Mr. Friendly, Cat entered the club.

Darkness was an obvious theme. Cat had to stop right inside the door to let her eyes adjust. Hard, nasty techno music throbbed through the floor and up through the soles of her shoes. The main club area was themed as a dungeon. Faux torches cast red- and orange-tinted light in small semi-circles. A dry ice machine pumped “fog” into the room, and it swirled around Cat’s feet and ankles as she moved into the room. Unlike most dungeon clubs, there were no play areas. At least, none Cat could see.  There _were_ carefully arranged sitting areas on the fringes of the main room. The rest of the area held a dance floor which currently hosted a dozen couples gyrating to the bass beat.

Cat sensed someone approaching and turned just as the man reached her. “Good evening. Welcome to the Legion.” His smile was practiced and the shadows from the low lighting made the expression more sinister than friendly. “Alina asked me to be on the lookout. She said you were a very promising new recruit. I am Stephen.”

His hand was cool and dry when Cat shook it. “Cat.” They were both nearly shouting despite being only inches apart. “This wasn’t what I expected.”

“Ah. This is an area for...less qualified recruits.” Stephen gently touched her elbow. “Alina is one of our founding members, and she was very impressed, Cat. Very impressed.” He flashed another plastic smile. “Let me show you the VIP area of the club. I think you’ll find the crowd and the atmosphere are more to your tastes.”

Cat’s mind insisted on humming “Hotel California” as she allowed Stephen to steer her past the dancers to a well-concealed door. On the other side was a carpeted staircase - and sound proofing. The instant the door closed behind them, the music disappeared. “Wow. I’m deaf now.” Making a show of it, Cat rubbed at her ears. “So you have two separate clubs? A dance club on the main floor, and what? More like a private dinner club downstairs?” She needed to get him talking. Her recorder would be useless without a verbal record of information and talking to herself would look suspicious.

“You’ll see in a minute,” Stephen answered vaguely. The lighting in the staircase was better. Cat scanned the walls for anything interesting. Unfortunately, there was nothing more than the same dungeon-themed paint structure. It was a surreal experience. Without the sounds from above and with the carpet muffling their footsteps, the trip downward was completely silent. The landing was guarded by yet another door, this one with a digitized key pad.

Cat pretended to look away as Stephen punched in his passcode but managed to make out a four and seven as the first part of the 5-digit code. The door opened with a hiss, indicating it was a sealed room. The reason for that was not immediately clear. Cat peered around the room (thankfully not kitted in the best dungeon gear). Tasteful couches and chairs in burgundy and black leather created conversation areas. A full bar nestled in a corner. “Much better,” Cat murmured.

The people milling around the room or talking quietly in the sitting areas glanced their way. Cat didn’t recognize anyone. “Let me introduce you,” Stephen volunteered without any prodding. “Alina wanted you to meet the rest of the founding members.”

Nerves slicked Cat’s palms with sweat. As casually as possible, she wiped them on her pant legs. It wouldn’t fit her image to present a damp handshake to the Legion VIPs. “Will Alina be here later?” Cat asked. Since Alina had offered the invitation, Cat wanted to show her allegiance.

“Perhaps. She rarely attends events unless we have something special planned.” They approached a startlingly attractive couple near the bar. Both men were tall and well-built. “Ah, gentlemen, may I introduce Alina’s new recruit? This is Cat.” With an obsequious half-bow, Stephen ushered Cat forward.

Their twin stares were piercing. Cat’s smile faltered. “Hi,” she said faintly and tried not to flinch away.

“Alina...” The blond on the left murmured. “You must be very special, Cat.” He flagged down the bartender. “What can we get you to drink?”

The evening was shaping up to be worse than the mock prom Cat had attended at the asylum when she was fourteen. Stilted conversations, far too many nerves, and people Cat needed to impress. “Rum and Coke,” she told the uniformed woman behind the bar. “I guess...” How should she play this? Brash or unsure? “What is this place? The stuff upstairs is nice but like every other club I’ve been to. What happens down here?” Oh, and by the way, who the Hell are you?

Stephen appeared chagrined. “I’m afraid I didn’t get to all of the explanations,” he told the two men.

“No matter. If Cat is Alina’s, we will be happy to do the tour.” The second man took control of the conversation. “Cat, my name is Jonathan Stewart, and this ‘place’ is the heart of what we like the call the First Legion.” As continued to explain the foundation of the group, Cat’s mind raced.

Jonathan Stewart. The man behind the whole Legion. Alina must be super connected. Cat prayed her phone was recording everything.

“We normally don’t bring new members in without taking them through a full introduction process. Those are the people you noticed upstairs. It’s a series of social events, support group attendance, and private training sessions at various facilities throughout the city.” The bartender returned with Cat’s drink, which Jonathan intercepted and handed personally to Cat. “You’re different, Cat. I spoke with Alina after your group session this morning. She said you had fire and conviction, and that we shouldn’t waste your time with beginner classes.”

Wow. Alina had really promoted her. Cat would have to figure out why at a later time. She focused on the here and now, meeting Jonathan’s eyes with as much arrogance as she could muster. “I wasn’t trying to impress anyone, Jonathan. I admit I barged my way into the group session, but I was really looking for answers. A way to change some things in my life, in _me,_ that have been wrong for a long time. Alina said First Legion was the perfect place to do that.” She sipped at her drink and waited for Jonathan to respond.

He wasn’t off-put at her answer. “I’m sure Alina gave you our card. We like to think of the First Legion as an army of people who share just that thought, Cat. Change.” Moving away from the bar, Jonathan gestured to his companion. “This is Matthew. Like Alina, he helped found the First Legion. Matthew heads up our West Coast membership; I’m very glad he was here to meet you tonight.”

Matthew. Thomas. Jonathan. Stephen. Full, formal names. Silk suits and ties. Cat didn’t know if it was significant, but it got filed away for later research.

“So what happens now? Do you have advanced classes?” Cat didn’t back down. “Alina said I was ready to take what I wanted out of life.” Glancing around the room, she allowed a hint of doubt to creep in to her voice. “Maybe. Let’s say I finally _know_ what I want. I’m still fuzzy on how to get it. Well,” she forced a laugh, “without resorting to violence, and facing a judicial hearing isn’t on my bucket list. The last one was...less than pleasant.” Cat deliberately embellished her history. She’d have to get with Frost as soon as this meeting broke up and build a false identity in case Jonathan decided to check up on her.

“Fire and conviction,” Jonathan repeated. “The judicial system has never been equipped to accept those characteristics.” He nodded to Stephen. “Please make sure Cat enjoys her time here. I’m afraid Matthew and I have a prior engagement. Cat, it was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to seeing you rise through the ranks of the First Legion.”

He and Matthew swept away, and Cat watched people flow out of their path.

She looked at Stephen and wiped at imaginary sweat on her forehead. “You should warn people before introducing them to the VIPs right off the bat.”

For the first time, his smile appeared genuine. “It’s all part of the test, Cat, and you passed with flying colors. Now...I really would like you to meet the rest of the members. They’ll be able to answer more of your questions on how things work and how to pick groups and events that suit your individual needs.”

The rest of the night was a blur of names, handshakes, and questions. Cat did the best she could to keep them all straight in her mind. The members of First Legion were a diverse bunch. Bankers, teachers, government employees, even a few police officers. Those, especially, sent Cat’s adrenaline rushing. She was going to have to be very careful. If someone recognized her, she’d have to have a story handy. For now, she filed away their names and planned to avoid them if she came to more events.

At one point, Stephen apologized and stepped away, leaving Cat with a small group women. “How’s your first night going?” Cat thought her name was Marie, a sous chef at one of the restaurants downtown. “Overwhelmed?”

 Rolling her eyes, Cat made no effort to hide her sarcasm. “Not at all. I always meet dozens of new people all at one time. Not to mention Stephen tossed me under the bus the second we came down the stairs. I wanted to kill him. He dragged me to meet Jonathan with no warning at all. Not even a ‘straighten your hair and be polite’ notice.”

The whole group laughed; several looked impressed. “Jonathan, on the first night. You must be destined to leave us behind in a hurry,” one of them said.” Cat had no idea who, though. Stocky, blonde, and butch. The woman caught her examination and made sure the red leather cuff on her left wrist was visible. “What makes you so special?”

Now there was a leading question. Cat moved a little closer and leaned in before answering. “I got pissy at one of the group sessions and barged into a private meeting.” She paused to let the tension build. “That’s it.”

There was a moment of stunned silence. No one had expected something so mundane. Butch Woman recovered first. “Must have been quite a temper tantrum. It took me a year of classes to make it Downstairs.” She continued to watch Cat. “I think I’ll stick around to see how high you go. Which group did you crash?”

“North End at nine. I didn’t ask the guy at the desk for his name, but Thomas was running the session,” Cat answered. The other woman’s stare was uncomfortable. It was not quite a leer but Cat wanted to move away. She didn’t even know this woman’s name; it was far too soon for that level of familiarity and...ownership from Butch Woman.

There were a few shudders. “You’re crazy. You took on Thomas? The man who eats nails for breakfast?” another of the women asked.

Cat shrugged; although she agreed with the comment. “All in a day’s work. Besides I’d already crashed the party. I wasn’t leaving without attending that session.” It was getting late. A glance at her watch showed she’d been here for nearly three hours. Cat needed usable information and then she needed to get out. Jane needed to hear what she had so far. “Jonathan mentioned classes, too. How do I get hooked up with those? And which ones should I take?” It was about time Cat found an opening for real investigation. “From all the fanfare when Alina talked about this place, I expected rousing speeches and self-improvement workshops.”

“They don’t do that here.” Marie settled onto a couch and patted the cushion next to her. “I’m tired. Sit down and let me give you the lowdown on the rest of the Legion policies.”

Sitting was the last thing Cat wanted. She did it anyway. “I’m all ears.”

“Advanced classes are usually small group. Invitation only.” Marie waved at Butch Woman. “Tammy and I usually end up together. Our sponsor Karina has us actually teaching some of the newbies. Running some of the group sessions. But we’ve also been out to the Beacon Hill club, like this only way more exclusive, to meet more of the Founders and Jonathan’s donors.”

Jonathan had donors? He wasn’t fronting the Legion himself? Cat tried not to look too interested. “Huh. Beacon Hill’s a bit rich for my blood.”

She didn’t understand Marie’s laughter. “Funny turn of phrase, Cat. I’m sure you’ll get an invite. You seem to be fast tracking, but you’ll have to go to at least a few of the Founder meetings first. The Legion can do a lot for you if you’re willing to give something back.”

It sounded sinister to Cat. Groups that wanted something back had a bad reputation and usually got labeled as cults. “Well, thanks for the Legion Lesson,” she told Marie. “I’m beat. Next time I get invited, I’ll have to be better prepared for the long hours.” She stood and scanned the room. Jonathan was missing, and she didn’t see Stephen. However, Alina was having an intense conversation with someone across the room. “Time to say goodbye to my Sponsor and find my way home.”

A wave of good-natured jeers about it still being early followed her toward Alina. She caught pieces of the conversation as she approached.

“...time to move forward...” Alina’s companion said.

Alina didn’t agree. “It’s too soon. We need more members. New blood. Jonathan arranged a meeting with Master Phillip...” She broke off as she saw Cat. “Cat! You did make it.” Her smile was clearly forced and Cat took the hint.

“I wanted to say thanks for the invitation. You’re busy. I’d like to see about enrolling in some of the classes Marie and Tammy mentioned. How do I...”

“Call the North End office and leave your name and number. I’ll be in touch.” Alina turned away, dismissing Cat.

Bitch. Giving Alina’s back a glare (to stay in character, of course), Cat marched upstairs and out of the bar. She waited long enough to be out of earshot and checked her phone. Fuzzy techno music blared from the speaker. It had worked. Cat did a victory dance on the sidewalk and called Jane. It was time for the team to meet.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BtVS enthusiasts will notice mention of canon events in this chapter. However, I have twisted them to suit my own nefarious purpose.

“And that’s what I’ve got,” Cat finished. She slumped in a chair in the conference room and avoided meeting anyone’s eyes. From the second she’d begun her story, she’d felt hunted. Tara kept trying to catch her eye. And Jane… Well, Jane simply glared. While Tara appeared worried, Jane was angry. Very angry from the way she’d been glaring at Cat for the past hour. “The lab cloned my phone. They promised a transcript of anything I managed to record by end of day tomorrow...” She looked at her watch and corrected. “Today.”

“I’ll start checking the list of names against anyone we’ve already connected to the Legion,” Frost said. He looked exhausted and rumpled, a far cry from his usual starched and perfect appearance. “Alina will probably be our best bet. It’s an uncommon name.” His gaze flickered to Jane for a second before he continued. “Nice job,” he praised Cat.

It wasn’t really. Jane’s glare had slowly eroded Cat’s sense of accomplishment. As she’d relayed the information about the support group and the Legion party, Cat understood what she’d done wrong. She’d lost perspective. Hell, probably her entire mind. Cat had allowed anger or disappointment (she mentally thanked Maura for that phrase) at Tara and Faith, and life in general, to affect her job as a detective. Going to the group session alone...that wasn’t too a big deal. Small group, little chance of making a big connection.

Once she’d made the connection, though, Cat knew she should have returned to the station house. She should have informed the team in person. She’d needed backup outside the club. There had been other cops at that party. Cops that could easily have burned her cover. And she should have gone in professionally wired. Her cell phone was an amateur recording device that might not have fully captured everything - and which might cause problems if this case went to trial.

All in all, Cat felt like an idiot. That being said…Mistakes aside, Cat had single-handedly blown a hole in the case. It was time for Jane to stop acting like she wouldn’t have done the same thing and give Cat a little praise. “Thanks,” she said clearly and loudly in response to Frost’s comment. “Where do we go from here?” She met Jane’s eyes without flinching.

“We need you further inside,” Jane answered tightly. “This party was supposed to be the big leagues, but I don’t see it. You met Jonathan Stewart, shook a lot of important hands; you didn’t really see anything else. How can that group be the elite recruits? What did Marie tell you?” Flipping through her notes of Cat’s statement, Jane read, “‘...have to attend at least three other group sessions.’ Why? What the Hell does this group really do?”

“And why the emphasis on the Beacon Hill location?” Korsak sipped from his ever-present coffee cup. In a nod to the late hour, he’d removed his tie and unbuttoned the top of his dress shirt. “It can’t only be money. From Cat’s descriptions, not all of the elite are wealthy. And who’s the backer? We take one step forward in this investigation and it moves us back a mile with more questions.”

Everyone took a moment to absorb that thought. “Ain’t as bad as you think.” Faith held up a hand and ticked off points as she talked. “We know First Legion is behind the murders. Cat’s got a way in. Now we know what questions to ask. And me and the old guy made waves at the meet and greet.”

Really? Cat hadn’t heard that. She frowned; what had Korsak and Faith learned from the social events?

“OK.” Jane leaned forward and started handing out assignments. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Frost, get the search on names started and then hit the crib for some sleep. Tara can work with her Council connections while you’re out.” Her raised brow dared him to argue - and he didn’t. “Maura’s got friends on the Hill. We’ll work that angle; see if we can’t trace the money behind First Legion. Korsak...” She paused and Cat stifled a sigh. She hadn’t made the list of assignments yet. Was Jane going to bench her? “Head to the lab. Get them to push the transcript through. Better yet, get a copy of the recording and bring it back here.”  

“What about me?” Cat interrupted.

Barely glancing in Cat’s direction, Jane responded coldly, “Do a coffee run. If Korsak can’t get a copy of the recording, you can give him your phone when you get back.”

Definitely benched. Cat bit her lip against an angry retort and stalked out the door. Before she’d crossed the bullpen, Faith trotted up alongside her. “Mind some company? I’m kinda in the way here.”

There was more to it. Faith kept looking at Cat out of the corner of her eye, watching her.

“Whatever,” she said shortly. The energy buzz from Faith’s closeness was growing familiar. Rubbing at her tingling arm, she shoved open the station house door and stepped outside. Cold and clear.

They started down the sidewalk before Faith finally asked her question. “You gonna get your head out of your ass or you waitin’ until Jane sends you back to C6?”

It was so outrageous that Cat stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

Faith stopped, too. Facing Cat, hands stuffed into her pockets, she stated bluntly, “You fucked up yesterday. Leaving before me and Korsak came in. Not wearing a real wire last night. Acting like Jane’s a bitch ‘cause she put you on coffee duty. You’re lucky she didn’t send you home.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cat moved around Faith and resumed walking until Faith grabbed her arm. “Get off me!” She shoved at Faith, twisting in her grasp.

“Knock it off, tiger,” Faith ordered.

The command brought Cat up short, her mind and body immediately responding. “Yes, Faith.” She stood quietly, waiting for more direction.

Faith’s grip shifted, loosening a bit. “Let’s find someplace to talk. I’ll tell T the coffee shop ran out of beans or some shit.” Maintaining a hold on Cat’s arm, she steered them down a side street. “There’s a park down this way. This time of night, the only people dumb enough to use it are Slayers and vamps.”

Cat dragged her feet as much as she dared. Any real defiance had been trumped by Faith’s dominant actions.

“Sit down, tiger.” Faith pushed Cat onto a snow-covered bench. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Cat snapped. “There. Is. Nothing. Wrong.” It was a lie, and it was clear Faith knew that, too. Recoiling from Faith’s disappointed stare, Cat dropped her chin to her chest and examined her knees.

“Wanna try that again?” Faith crouched down until she intercepted Cat’s gaze.

It was impossible to look away now. Cat felt like a mouse trapped by a mountain lion. This was the Faith she’d always imagined she’d meet – and now she really wanted the other, submissive Faith back.  Cat didn’t want to admit what she’d done. She pressed her lips together stubbornly.

Faith’s lips twitched. “Gonna play hardball, tiger? Figures.” With a sigh, she stood and then dropped onto the bench next to Cat. “Let me tell you how you feel right now. You’re pissed. Jane’s being an ass, not telling you how good you are. You did all the work yesterday, right? Nobody else put their ass on the line going into that club.” 

How could Faith know that? Cat turned to stare at her. Could she feel all that through the bond?

“Huh. Must be close,” Faith murmured. “Here’s the deal, tiger. All that shit you’re thinking, about how what you did makin’ how you did it all right? Stop thinking it. Getting into the Legion doesn’t mean you get a pass on the rules.”

“You don’t have the right to tell me that.” Cat should have been crushed by Faith’s comment. She should have been on her knees, apologizing. Maybe that would have happened if Faith really had remembered. But there was still no mental voice at the other end of the bond.  And Cat couldn’t take it anymore. She stood and loomed over Faith. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You’ve been here three days. Until you showed up, everything was fine!”

Faith let her vent without comment. She simply leaned back on the bench and watched as Cat clenched her fists.

Her lack of action infuriated Cat even more. Her rage spewed out in hard, angry words. “I’m tired of all of you watching me like I’m some freak. Red fucking cuff. I was good enough to work with Tara. Hell, I was the _only_ one who could go with Tara. Nobody else. And when Tara fucks with my head by collaring me, you all want to wrap me in cotton. Maura graciously allowed me to stay on the team without reporting my breakdown to Cavanaugh or the department.”

She thought Faith was going to stay silent again until Faith said quietly, “That’s what friends do, tiger. Except you think you don’t have any friends. Too lost in bein’ angry and feeling sorry for yourself.”

Cat took a step closer. “You don’t…”

Before she could finish the sentence or grab Faith they way she wanted, Faith was standing and right in Cat’s face. “I know exactly what you’re thinking. How you feel. I’ve _been_ you, tiger. You’re all alone. No family. No friends. You do it all on your own. Always have, always will. You got a chip on your shoulder bigger than the whole fucking city.”

The words hit Cat like an avalanche, and Faith wasn’t done.

“You know what happens now, tiger? You keep doin’ stupid shit like going undercover without backup. You tell the team you’re fine and to leave you alone.” Faith’s voice wasn’t loud yet it pounded at Cat. “One day, you’re gonna wake up and they’ll all be gone ‘cause you shoved them away. And that’s when it happens. You cross a line. You cross it and you can’t go back. You’ll be like me, tiger. Standing on a rooftop beating the crap out of someone, hoping that they’ll win and end your pain.”

“That won’t happen to me,” Cat protested. But she couldn’t shake the fear that Faith was right. She _did_ feel completely alone. More than she ever had.

“Yeah, it will, tiger. You may feel alone now. But when you cross that line, you really _will_ bealone.” Faith laid her hand softly on Cat’s cheek. “You got to let us help. We’re your friends.”

Friends. Faith had no idea… Focusing on the warmth of Faith’s hand and of her friendship, Cat asked, “Is that what you did? Finally let people help you?” She couldn’t imagine Faith as angry and alone, as in pain, as she was right now.

“No,” Faith said sadly. “I was too far gone. One of those friends was the person I was tryin’ to kill the day my life changed.”

“What happened?” Cat watched Faith, watched as her expression lightened and her lips tilted in the softest smile.

The answer shouldn’t have been a surprise. “Tara. Me and B are knocking each other senseless all over the roof. She’s winning, like always. And I got pissed. Went crazy. Managed to get her on the ground. I’m standing there with my favorite dagger, thinking about movin’ in for the kill…”  Faith closed her eyes, and her voice trailed off. Cat wanted to hit her. How could she stop _right there_? Luckily, Faith soon resumed the story. “Then this voice comes out of nowhere. I’m talking Uber Domme. ‘Don’t even think about using that knife,’ like I’m some little kid about to color on the wall.”

Of course, that had to be when the life bond happened. Cat’s breath caught in a sob, and she struggled to disguise it as a cough. “Worse than when she got mad at me for going to the club?” she teased in a scratchy voice.

“Not even on the same planet, tiger. B’s eyes about popped out of her head when I chucked the knife on the ground and hit my knees.” Faith grinned, dimples popping out. “Ain’t let me live it down since.”

They stood there, with Faith lost in memories. “We should probably get that coffee before Jane sends out a search party,” Cat said. She needed something to do, something to give her distance and time to absorb Faith’s advice and the glimpse into her past.

“Yeah…Yeah.” Faith shook her head, the dazed expression clearing. “Man, I ain’t thought about that night in a long time. Never told anyone about it.”

Cat led the way back to the main street. “I’m sorry you had to dredge it all up because of me.” She’d always wanted to know about Faith and her past. Now that she’d heard some of it, Cat hated that she’d inadvertently hurt Faith in the process.

With a playful shove, Faith said, “Don’t worry about it, tiger. No way was I lettin’ you hit bottom like me. I haven’t been that Faith since T showed up. You should have seen her. She wasn’t so scary back then. More shy girl than confident Domme. She grew up because I needed her to.” Her voice grew wry. “Damn near wore her arm out that first year. I fought her every step of the way.”

“Why? Did you resent being her submissive?” The words were out before Cat could rein them in. She didn’t try to retract them, though. The gleam of Faith’s collar in the streetlights demanded an answer.

“What? Because I’m a Slayer?” Faith took Cat’s nod at face value. “Just because I’m a lean, mean, evil-killing machine don’t mean I need to flag on the left. I was out of control. Tara had to pull me back, make me follow the rules. Not something I’m good at. Slayers aren’t all Dominants. We kinda fall wherever. B…Buffy, the friend from the roof, she’s the best Slayer ever. No one can touch her. She’s a Domme. Just as many of us wear collars, though, with a few switches thrown in.” She shrugged. “Slaying’s dangerous, tiger. Two, three, four people… However big the relationship needs to keep us from burning out.”

Alina’s advice came back to Cat. _Tell your Domme_. This was as close to the perfect moment as Cat might get.

Cat wasn’t _quite_ ready for that step. Instead, she approached the issue cautiously, from the side. “Ever thought about switching? You kind of have that arrogant ‘you’ll do what I say’ thing.” It was hard to sound like she was teasing when Cat was nearly lightheaded from holding her breath as she added, “You’ve bossed me around and threatened to kick my ass if I disobey your commands.”


	14. Chapter 14

Faith was quiet for so long, Cat thought she’d upset her. “I’m sorry,” she said as the light of the coffee shop appeared ahead. “That was way out of line.” Like most of the things she’d done lately.

“Nah.” Faith’s smile was strained. “You’re good; just…just seems to be a night for thinkin’ about the past.”

“Faith, forget I asked, OK?” Cat felt her tension rise in time with Faith’s. Why the Hell did she keep pushing? It was none of her business, and she had known since she was eight that Faith didn’t talk about herself. Damn Alina for egging her on.

Slowing until they were barely moving, Faith ran a hand through her hair. “Tara asked me the same question last night, tiger. You working for the witch now?” She managed a better grin when Cat stared at her in wide-eyed shock. “Yeah, that’s the way I looked at her. Like she’d fucking lost her mind. Me? A Domme?”

“So then you just play the big, bad Slayer for me?” That would be more than fine with Cat. Maybe Faith _did_ remember their link. A little. Subconsciously.

“Somebody has to keep you in line,” Faith said seriously. “But me? I ain’t Dominant material.” She seemed both completely certain of that – and very sad. “I’ve done things, tiger. Things that… Dominants need control; I don’t have it. Not like T or Maura or Buffy. Subs should be able to trust their Domme.”

It was suddenly very hard to breathe. What had happened to Faith? Cat ached at the desolation in Faith’s eyes, at the self-doubt coloring her voice. She had a momentary and completely inappropriate desire to wrap Faith in a hug.

She mastered the need with difficulty. Her hands went into her pockets and away from temptation. “You’re all bark and no bite, Faith,” she said, injecting as much sarcasm as possible into the remark.

When Faith’s head whipped around and she glared, Cat took off. She knew Faith could outrun her; there had been a Slayer in her Police Academy class. Cat knew just how fast they could move. Still, she wasn’t giving Faith a stationary target.  Maybe it was surprise that slowed Faith. Cat was barely a half-step ahead as they careened into the coffee shop.  “Not to mention, you’re slow.”

“Bitch,” Faith muttered as the barista watched them suspiciously. She probably thought they were drunk and trying to sober up. Cat snickered as Faith flashed a super bright smile and gave their order. Then she turned around and pointed. “Ain’t no call to be mean, tiger. You keep that up, I’ll have to show you what a Slayer can do.”

Dear God. Cat sucked in a deep breath and held it as her body heated. To keep from throwing herself at Faith and _begging_ for that “show”, Cat met Faith’s eyes and managed to smirk. “You and what army? Or will you bring your Alpha Domme to help you? _She’s_ got what it takes. You? Not by a long shot.”

With a grumbled curse, Faith spun around and accepted the cardboard carriers of coffee.

Cat watched, the scene reminding her of another conversation with Faith.

_“I don’t have to do what you say!” Cat argued loudly. “What are you going to do from…from wherever you are?”_

_They’d been arguing back and forth for almost an hour. It had gotten so heated at one point that Cat’s mother had poked her head into the room because Cat had actually been yelling out loud – and not just in her mind. Cat didn’t care. She wasn’t backing down._

_The voice in her head was quiet. However, waves of frustration and disappointment rolled through the link. “Little cat, I ain’t going to ask you again. The doc said you need to take your meds and sleep. Watchin’ TV isn’t sleeping.”_

_Cat crossed her arms over her chest and blinked heavy, gritty eyes at the television. She was tired, and she wanted to sleep. But she wouldn’t. She wasn’t giving in to Faith’s stupid order. She… Cat yawned. “I’m not tired,” she lied, knowing Faith would sense the lie and get angrier. If she was going to make Faith mad, then she’d do it right. “You want me to sleep? Make me.”_

Present Day Faith didn’t sulk quite as noticeably as she had that long-ago day. In fact, she seemed to be enjoying Cat’s ability to give as well as take. She handed Cat one of the coffee carriers. They left the coffee shop side-by-side and silent. Cat could have walked for hours with Faith by her side.

Unfortunately, the station house appeared far too soon. Her footsteps lagged.

“Standin’ out here won’t solve the problem, tiger.” Faith raised an eyebrow and tilted her head at the building. “Time to get back to work.”

Time to endure more glares from Jane. To face more worried glances from Tara. To realize, over and over, just how much she’d screwed up the day before.

“Geez, get inside already,” Faith said. Her free hand gripped the back of Cat’s neck. It was warm and solid – and Cat shivered as Faith guided her into the station house. “I didn’t think you were a coward. What are ya’ afraid of?”

“Nothing,” Cat lied and prayed the Faith wouldn’t notice.

Her luck continued to suck. “You’re full of shit, tiger. But we’re here so I guess it don’t matter. Too late for you to run for the door. Not that you’d get too far with me hangin’ on to you.” Faith stroked Cat’s neck with her fingers in what was probably supposed to be a warning.

It turned Cat’s bones into old rubber bands. She stumbled through the bullpen and into the conference room.

“You drive to New York for the coffee?” Jane asked the second they crossed the threshold.

Cat stiffened immediately. She might have responded in kind if Faith hadn’t beaten her to it. “Must’ve been a run on caffeine. Had to wait while they made a new pot,” Faith answered smoothly. “Got you covered now.” She set the coffee carrier on the table, pulling out the two mugs for her and Tara.

Concentrating on handing out the rest of the mugs, Cat got a grip on her anger. She had to let it go.  Frost was gone, probably grabbing a nap. She headed for his empty chair; if nothing else, she could watch the database search for Alina. Names and pictures appeared and disappeared in rapid succession. A list of possible matches lined a column on the far left of the screen. Cat reached for the mouse and double-clicked on the list.

A new window opened, allowing her to examine the possible matches. None of the grainy DMV photos showed Alina, however. Cat closed the window and watched the program continue to run. Now what? It was two in the morning, and they were dead in the water. Or were they?

“Faith, if you and Tara staked out the Legion bar, would you be able to tell if there were vampires inside?” Marie had indicated it was early when Cat left. Maybe some of the VIPs were still there.

Faith glanced up from her spot at Tara’s feet. “Depends. You said the real party was downstairs. Don’t know if I can sense anything if they’re too far down. Me and T’ll give it a try, though.”

At Tara’s name, Cat looked up to find Tara watching her. This time, Cat didn’t look away. She held Tara’s eyes for a moment. “I’m fine,” she tried to say with just that look. “Really.” When Tara’s lip curled in her usual half-smile, Cat dropped her eyes and relaxed. The message had been received and accepted.

“Detective Rizzoli, we’ll let you know what we find,” Tara said. She grabbed Faith’s hand. “Let’s see how good you really are, Slayer. I’ve listened to you boast about your mad skills for years. Put up or shut up.”

Cat laughed as Faith swaggered out the door. “T, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Once they were gone, the only sound in the room was the whir of the laptop’s fan motor and Jane’s jaw-breaking yawn. It was enough to send Cat into a sympathetic yawning fit. “You got anything for me?” she asked when she could breathe.

“No. Not much we can do right now.” Jane stood and stretched. “Maura’s picking me up in a few. We’re heading home for a couple of hours.”

Going home sounded good. Cat got up and slipped back into her jacket. “Think I’ll follow your lead.” There was something she needed to do first, though. “Jane…”

Jane turned. “Yeah? You remember something else?” Of course, her first thought would be the case.

“No. I…Look, I know I should have reported in yesterday.”  It was hard for Cat to keep talking. As much as she knew she needed to apologize, a tendril of resentment remained. “The thing with Tara, it got to me. More than I wanted to admit.” Everything inside Cat screamed at her to stop - except one tiny voice that sounded a lot like Faith. That voice urged her to tell Jane the truth. “I went solo because I needed to prove that I could. To you, to the team.” The words tasted like ashes in her mouth. “To me.”

If Jane knew what it cost Cat to say that, it didn’t show. Her expression remained neutral. “Don’t do it again,” she said clearly. “Get some sleep. We’ll meet back here at seven.”

***

“No hits on the names. Sorry, Cat,” Frost announced. “We do have a little good news, though. Tracking Jonathan Stewart’s financials finally paid off. The Council’s records on him are way better than ours. He used shell companies, but it looks like he purchased four bars in Boston over the last two years. The one in North End, one in Beacon Hill, another off of Exeter in Back Bay. The final location in out near Tufts Medical Center.”

The Beacon Hill location was the only one Marie had mentioned. It had to be the heart of the Legion operation. Cat stared at the map Frost had projected onto the wall.

Jane was studying it, too. “Tara, did you find anything last night?”

“A faint trace,” Tara answered. She nudged Faith. “But I’m not the expert.”

Faith smirked. “Ain’t what you said last night. I remember you doubting my skills.” Receiving a tap on the head from Tara, she sobered. “Anyway, the area was pretty empty when we got there. I caught a couple of signatures. Old. And not _in_ the bar. I couldn’t tell if they’d come from the bar, though.”

“Probably not a blood bar. Even with good security, Faith would have picked up on that kind of vampire traffic. I ran a scan on magical energy, too. With the money being pumped into these locations – and the murders – I wanted to be sure we didn’t have another kind of problem.” Tara had everyone’s attention. It was rare to hear even Council representatives talk openly about magic. “There was nothing.”

That left them right where they’d been earlier this morning. “What about…” Cat’s cell phone buzzed, and she broke off. The Caller ID showed an unknown number. “Frost?”

“Ready,” he responded.

She tapped the Accept button on her phone’s touchpad. “This is Cat.”

“Good morning. How did you enjoy the evening?” Alina asked. Her mood must have improved from the night before. She was back to friendly and cheerful.

Waving for Frost to begin the recording and trace, Cat launched into the act she’d rehearsed with Jane. “Not what I expected.” She let a hint of distrust creep into her voice. “Are you playing me? I thought there would be…more.”

Some of Alina’s cheer was absent when she responded. “I invited you to meet our Founder. What more were you looking for?”

“One of the guests. Marie? She mentioned workshops and some big thing in Beacon Hill.” Cat waited, sweat trickling down the middle of her back. She had to let Alina make the next move. If she pushed too hard, she might lose Alina’s budding trust.

Unfortunately, Alina didn’t say anything, and Cat decided to back off. “Look. I get it. You don’t know me from Adam. I just…We talked about it yesterday. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t sit back and accept what’s going on in my life without fighting back.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Cat. I wasn’t judging,” Alina said, breaking her silence. “You’ve already leapfrogged a lot of the usual steps for a recruit.” Cat gripped the phone so tightly her fingers ached. “But I don’t want you to get discouraged. It’s short notice…if you’re free tonight, there’s a workshop at one of our member’s homes.”

Bingo. Cat paced back and forth in the conference room. “What time? I’ve got a lot of paperwork on my desk.”  She wanted to scream “Yes! Yes, I’ll be there!” Pretending to be unsure of what she wanted might kill her.

“The workshop starts at seven.” There was a rustle in the background. New voices. Alina sounded like she’d turned away from the phone when she continued. “I’ll leave your name with the workshop organizer in case you can make it.” She rattled off the address and disconnected the call.

A cheer exploded through the room

“Good job, Cat.” Jane was ready to forgive now that Cat was back to being a team player. “Did we get anything?” she fired at Frost.

He worked on his computer for a minute. “The call originated downtown, near the corners of Purchase and Oliver.” The projector screen lit with an exterior shot of a three-story building. “Alina was calling from here, Madison Streeter Investments.” The screen changed again, and a headshot of Alina appeared. “This is Allison Parker, Senior Vice President of Mergers and Acquisitions.”

“Not who I would have suspected of being a recruiter,” Maura murmured. She waved a hand at Alina’s picture. “What’s more astonishing is that I know her. We sit on the boards of several charities together. I’ve always found her very logical and interested in the community. Jane, you met her at the Cystic Fibrosis Dinner last month. Her submissive is a surgeon at Mass General.”

Jane ignored all of Maura’s comments except one. “Can you call some of your cronies,” Maura grimaced at the description, “and discreetly poke around? I need to know as much as you can dig up about Ms. Parker.”

Everything was moving quickly now.  Frost was back at the computer trying to trace the rest of the Living with Loss group through Allison Parker or her firm. Jane and Maura were in a heated discussion about how best to utilize Maura’s connections.

All of it came to a halt when Tara cleared her throat. “Cat will need to be wired for tonight, correct?”

“Of course. I’ll get the…” Jane started.

“No,” Tara disagreed firmly. “Even I know that normal listening devices are often discovered. I won’t…We can’t let Cat go into this meeting if that’s a risk. I’ll have one of the local Council members bring a few of our covert listening devices. I’ve already had our head of security create an alias for her. The Legion won’t let her in without running a background check.” She stared fiercely at Cat, who shifted uneasily under the intense attention.  “As long as we’re all working together on this, we follow Slayer Rule Number One: don’t get dead.”


	15. Chapter 15

Standing in the back of the crowded room, Cat pretended to sip her drink. Really, she was scanning the crowd. “I hope you’re getting this,” she murmured into the heavy cut-glass brandy snifter.

“I told you the last time you asked, we can see and hear everything.” Jane’s voice was so loud and clear, Cat glanced around in case the other detective had crashed the party. “We’re feeding Frost the images, and he’s running them against all known databases.” Grudging admiration colored her next comment. “This stuff’s amazing; undercover work would be a lot safer and simpler if Tara’s crew was on-board all the time.”

Cat had to agree. Other than a mild itch under her right eye - where Tara and a witch friend had painted some clear liquid - even Cat couldn’t tell she was carrying an audio-visual recording device. Her musings stopped abruptly. People were streaming through the French doors at the far end of the room. It must be show time. Cat kept her glass; it provided excellent cover for talking to Jane. And it gave her something to do with her hands.

The presentation room had probably been a formal ballroom in another life. Dark, highly polished wood floors were encircled by carved and painted panels and intermittent mirrors. Instead of a string quartet playing music in one corner, though, a raised dais had been constructed. Folding chairs were scattered among the rest of the luxurious furnishings. They lined the dais and the entire ballroom floor. Cat chose one mid-way to the dais and right on the end. Not far enough away to draw attention, and easy enough to get out if she suddenly had to make a run for it.

Despite the large crowd, everyone found a seat quickly. Cat had sensed their overall boredom with the social hour not long after arriving. There was a strong undercurrent in the group. These people wanted action, not idle chatter. She noticed a preponderance of Red Cuffed submissives in the crowd. If Marie had been honest the night before, then everyone here had been handpicked. A homogeneous group who would share a single vision. Whatever that vision was.

“Thank you all for joining us tonight,” a tall, distinguished man said into the microphone on the stage. “It is my pleasure to open my home for this workshop. The First Legion offers so many opportunities to all of us; giving back by hosting this event is an honor.”

Cat had not seen the host before. She casually leaned to her left and asked the woman seated there, “This is my first time here. Who’s the old guy?”

She got a crusty look in return. “Jason Anders.” It was clear the woman thought Cat was an idiot for not recognizing someone so important.

Looking appropriately impressed, Cat whispered, “He looks shorter in person.”

A half-second later, Jane’s voice explained, “Anders is Old Money. His family controls a majority of the largest medical equipment supplier in North America.”

Sometimes having voices in your head was useful. Settling in for the show, Cat automatically scanned the crowd again. Young professionals. All in the twenty-five to thirty-five year old range. While Cat mulled over that observation, Anders was waving at another man on the stage.

“…introduce Martin, our guest speaker this evening.” Applause drowned out the rest of his comments, and Cat made sure to clap enthusiastically.

It took a few minutes of waving hands, bright smiles, and humble “thank yous” for Martin to settle everyone down. Once the room was silent and attentive, he clipped a wireless microphone to his shirt collar and stepped off the dais. “I see a lot of familiar faces here tonight. It’s good to have you back. It means we’ve been doing something right; that our message is connecting with you. And I know that some of you are here for the first time. Welcome. Welcome to the First Legion. This is a fantastic organization. A group dedicated to helping each of you move on with your lives. Each of you here tonight has suffered a great loss. I know that deep inside is a gaping hole, a place where your loved ones used to be.”

There were murmurs of agreement around the room. Even Cat nodded. Gaping hole was a mild description of what she had felt when Faith disappeared from her mind.

Pretty soon, Martin decided it was time for all of the new people to introduce themselves. Cat’s nearly-soundless groan must have gotten picked up by the magical microphone. Jane and Tara chuckled in her ear.

He started three rows in front of Cat. One by one, Karen, George, Rachel, and John said hello and were warmly welcomed with a creepy, in-stereo “Welcome to the First Legion,” chant. Cat’s heart picked up speed. Martin was one row away. Damn it, she hated this kind of thing.

When Martin stopped by her chair and held out a hand, Cat seriously considered refusing. She would have, if only this wasn’t a work assignment. Scowling fiercely, she stood up. “My name is Martin,” he said, just like he had the last three hundred (that might have been an exaggeration) times.

“Cat,” Cat responded tersely.

“Welcome to the First Legion, Cat.” If Cat had been at a Greek play, the whole “chorus” would have been singing or wearing masks.

The second Martin stepped away, Cat dropped back into her seat. Her seatmate gave her a big smile. “I’m Sara.”

For an instant, Cat nearly gave into temptation and welcomed Sara to the Legion. She resisted the impulse. “Hi. Nice to meet you,” Cat said, and flashed her own smile. Starting an actual conversation was impossible, not with the Greek chorus still chiming in regularly. She contented herself with counting the number of new heads and taking a close look at each one so that Tara and Jane got them on film. Or whatever magical images were stored on.

When the big introduction was over, Martin wandered back to the dais. “As I said, it’s good to see you all. Every day, the First Legion grows bigger. Stronger. One step closer to realizing our goals.”

“Of what? World domination?” Jane griped in Cat’s ear.

“I wanted to talk to you tonight about what it takes to move ahead. To let go of the past.” Martin faced the crowd and peered at them all very seriously.

The crowd stirred, sitting collectively straighter in their seats.

Without missing a beat, Martin launched into a rousing speech, and the crowd responded. They shouted their agreement. Several people stood and began clapping every time Martin paused and asked, “Don’t you want to be strong? Be free? Be a warrior for the First Legion?”

The growing energy of the people around her pulled at Cat. She focused on watching, on taking mental notes… Little by little, though, she began _listening_ to Martin.

“You represent the youth and vitality of the First Legion. Each of you has survived the crucible, a test that has made you strong. It is that strength which will push our organization into prominence. You are the foot soldiers. The ones who will go out and bring our message to the world.”

The crowd roared and came to its feet, sweeping Cat along.

"It’s time to let your pain, your frustrations, your _anger_ find an outlet. Use your anger. Channel it. Stop being afraid to demand what you want.” Martin was shouting now, and the crowd shouted with him.

The atmosphere was intoxicating. Cat rode the high without really understanding what fed the frenzy.

“Let the First Legion give your passion and drive a direction!” Martin held his arms aloft and room shook from the explosion of sound as the crowd went wild.   Men and women dressed all in black stepped from their positions along the walls. “Veterans, join your cohort commanders to report your successes since our last meeting.”

People rushed in every direction. Cat watched them hurry toward the black-clad people. Some appeared eager. Others… Afraid? Cat focused on those. On the way, their “commanders” noticed their body language and responded with sharp gestures. The winners and losers in whatever game the Legion played.

Cat itched to ask questions. She fell in with Sara until the other woman noticed. “You’re not in my cohort,” she told Cat. “If you’re new, you have to stay here. They’ll assign you to a team. Don’t worry. They’ll tell you what to do.” Lengthening her stride, she left Cat behind.

“Cat? What’s going on?” Jane’s voice was hard to hear over the noise of everyone moving.

Even if Cat could have answered, she wouldn’t have known what to say. She hovered near the chairs as each cohort left the room. When the final group marched out, Cat sank into a deserted chair along with the other “newbies”. All of them looked as shell-shocked as she felt.

Martin and the sole remaining man in black walked toward the group. “Please, come closer. This is your cohort. These are your brothers and sisters in arms.”

Exchanging confused glances, Cat and her new friends filled in the chairs surrounding Martin and the other man. “Kindred, this is Brad. He will be your mentor, your first commander as you become warriors for the cause.”

The evening had grown surreal. Brad probably spent every spare minute lifting weights, and there was a tattoo peeking from beneath the tightly stretched arm of his T-shirt. Cat didn’t want to stare. She turned until she it would appear she watched the new group members; however, the magically-treated spot on her cheek faced Brad.

“Nice, Cat,” Jane praised Cat. “Hang tight. I think you’re about to finally get us some useful information.”

***

Jane’s words were prophetic. Brad took over from Martin. He left the friendly, welcoming speeches behind. Brad was all about finding out what drove each member of his team. He’d obviously been fed information from other workshops and group sessions, and he was a master at manipulation.

In minutes, he pushed Gary, another recruit, into attacking him. “You told your session leader you wanted to change, Gary. You agreed. You told him you didn’t want your in-laws to have custody of your son. You were going to fight them. Take them to court.”  Cat didn’t know Gary’s story, but she could see him respond to Brad’s taunts. “You’re too much of a coward. You sat back and let them take your son! How is that change, Gary? Prove to me you belong here with us!”

Gary tried…and he failed. He rushed Brad with a hoarse cry.

Showing he’d had more than a little training, Brad stepped to the side. One foot shot out and hooked Gary’s. In seconds, Gary was on the floor. Cat and two other member of the group jumped up, ready to come to Gary’s defense.

Until Brad laughed and helped Gary to his feet. “There! That’s what you’ve been missing. That fire. That courage.” He clapped Gary the back and turned to Cat. “What about you? You burst into a group session uninvited. Your bondmate just left you. Abandoned you!”

Even though Cat was an experienced interrogator, Brad got under her skin. She fought the urge to take a swing at him. She throttled the rage and met his eyes.

“Everyone here has lost a bondmate,” she said quietly. Her voice betrayed her. It trembled. Her fingers flexed.

Brad saw it all. “Maybe.” His voice matched Cat’s. Soft and reasonable. See, little fish? There’s no hook here. A slight smile lightened his features, although his eyes were cold. “But that isn’t all that happened to you, is it? There’s something else. Something else drove you to that group session.”

Oh, shit. Cat froze: thoughts, emotions, muscles. Brad had information on every member of her cohort. He’d talked to Thomas. And Alina. He knew about her bondmate showing up with a Domme. A Domme whose name she’d mentioned to Alina.

Cat was wired. Jane and Tara would hear _everything._

“Shut up!” She surged forward, anticipating Brad’s evasive maneuver. One of her hands snuck over his guard and punched into his throat. Luckily – for them both – Brad had deflected it enough that he only gagged and coughed rather than suffered a crushed larynx. “Shut the fuck up!”

Hands grabbed her arms and dragged her back. “Save it for the mission, little sister,” Martin advised. “Brad isn’t the cause of your pain. Hold on to that rage. Savor it.”

Jerking away, Cat watched Brad incite the rest of the group. His work was easier after the show Gary and Cat had put on. People were on edge, afraid or embarrassed or angry before Brad got to them. Each new victory for Brad unsettled Cat even more.

She wanted to laugh the whole evening off. Stupid parlor tricks. Mob mentality was easy to create, but no one here would murder anyone. Right?  With Brad stoking the emotional flames, Cat wasn’t so sure. Each enraged shout. Each push and shove and wild punch. She felt her head pound, and her heart raced.

“You’re ready, Kindred.” Martin smoothly reinserted himself into the meeting. “Brad and your recruiters have created missions for each of you. Don’t worry. We understand that you aren’t veterans. This is a simple job. Enough to give you a taste of what taking control of your life can be like.”

The whole group leaned in eagerly, and Martin met their enthusiasm with open arms. “You’ll be contacted with the details by this time tomorrow. And when you return next week for our follow up session, you can report your successes to the cohort.”

He stood. “Now, it is time to rejoin the rest of the cohorts. To close out the evening with a final word on commitment to the Legion and to change.” The French doors sprung open and the veterans and their cohort commanders returned in regimented waves.

Cat ignored Martin’s final speech. She stared blindly over the heads in front of her. She had to get it together. She wasn’t a mark for Martin and Brad and the rest of the Legion. She was a cop.

When Martin dismissed them, Cat walked out of the house with her cohort. She patted Gary on the shoulder and managed to hold a conversation with Charlotte without remembering a word she uttered. On autopilot, she started her car when the valet delivered it and drove back toward the station house.

“Is the team meeting?” Cat asked Jane through the wire. Please no, she didn’t say. Cat desperately wanted to go home and hide until her emotions were back to normal.

Jane must have heard her silent plea. “No. Go home. Tara’s got the Council working on transcripting everything, and I got Cavanaugh to approve overtime for a couple more computer geeks to help Frost. We’re all taking the rest of the night off. We’ll meet in the conference room at eight unless there’s a break in the case.”

Cat’s hands relaxed slightly on the wheel. “And the wire?”

“You don’t want us to tape you snoring?” Jane asked. “Korsak would probably enjoy a glimpse of you naked in the mirror, too.”

“Cat, we have all we need. If you have any questions or need to contact us, you’ll need to use your cell. I’m deactivating the spell now,” Tara interrupted Jane’s teasing. And just like that, the itch on Cat’s cheek disappeared.

Not trusting the feeling, Cat said, “Tara? Can you hear me?”

No one responded. Alone in the car, Cat stepped on the gas. Home beckoned.

***

Sleep eluded Cat. She turned onto her side and burrowed further under the covers. Handel’s “Water Music” played softly on a loop. It was her go-to piece for relaxation only it wasn’t working. Cat rolled onto her back. Stretched her hands over her head and concentrated on deep breathing.

Still not working. Her skin crawled. Her heart beat twice as fast as normal.

With a growl, she gave up. Leaving the bed behind, Cat donned a pair of bag gloves and pounded on the heavy bag in one corner of her apartment. She imagined Brad’s face in the center of the target painted on the canvas surface. It felt good. Unfortunately, punching an imaginary Brad didn’t help with the smoldering anger.

She needed something else. A distraction. And Cat knew the perfect place. She’d just have to be more careful this time. No whips or flogging. Nothing to give her away to Maura or Tara.  Cat jumped into the shower and then dragged on a pair of leather pants and matching vest. Her jacket completed the outfit. Keys, wallet, cell phone. She was ready to go. Striding to the door, she wrenched it open and froze.

She’d promised she wouldn’t do this.

It didn’t matter. No one would know. Not this time. Cat stepped into the hall and closed the door. Instead of locking it, however, she reached desperately for her cell phone.

She’d promised.

Punching in the number for Dispatch, Cat asked to be relayed to Tara. After a few clicks, Cat heard a phone on the other end ring once…twice…

“Who is this?” Tara’s voice was fogged with sleep.

“I…I…I’m sorry,” Cat stammered. This had been a stupid idea. The club was there; it offered anonymous sex and scenes that had always worked in the past. “Never mind.”

“Cat? What’s wrong?” Tara demanded. She sounded wide awake now.

“I shouldn’t have called. I’m fine.” Cat started to end the call until Tara’s made that impossible.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Cat. Now!”

Fighting the command was futile. Cat leaned against her apartment door and mumbled, “I…you said…you said to let you know. I need to go out. I need…”

“Are you still at home?” Tara interrupted.

“Yes,” Cat whispered.

“Leave the door unlocked, kneel, and wait for us. We’re on our way.” Tara hung up as if she _knew_ Cat would do as she’d ordered.

Maybe Tara had known because Cat did _exactly_ what Tara had told her. She reentered the apartment, closed the door, and knelt right there in the entryway.


	16. Chapter 16

It was hard to stay there. Cat shifted repeatedly. Why had she called Tara? Tara was at the heart of all of her problems. Not to mention she’d told Cat that “we” would be right over. “We” had to mean Faith was coming, too. Cat couldn’t handle that. She couldn’t handle Faith seeing her like this. That thought got her partially upright.

No. Tara had said to kneel and wait. Cat had reached out to her. Didn’t that mean Cat had made Tara her Domme for the night? Like going to the bar and picking a Dominant. Cat had given Tara the right to give that command, tonight and during their conversation earlier in the week.

She was so confused. Cat closed her eyes and tried to will her mind and emotions back under control. This was crazy. She was _better_ than this. 

_“I hate it here, Faith,” Cat complained. Throwing herself on her bed, she glared at the ceiling. “Why can’t I come live with you?”_

_She didn’t even need to read Faith’s emotions through their bond to know that wouldn’t go over well. “Little cat...” There was a wealth of impatience in Faith’s mental voice. “What’s got you all twisted up now? Grounded again?”_

_“No.” Yes. Cat picked up a stuffed animal and heaved it across the room. “You just don’t want to be with me,” she accused, completely side stepping the real issue._

_“Knock it off. Now.” Faith wasn’t giving an inch, and that wasn’t what Cat wanted to hear. Tears burned her eyes as Faith continued. “Stop actin’ like you don’t know what you shoulda done at school today. You knew. And you didn’t do it, did you?”_

_Cat rolled over and buried her face in her pillow. The tears flowed faster._

_Faith’s thoughts softened. “Stop with the waterworks. It ain’t the end of the world. You screwed up, that’s all.”_

_“Why’s everyone so mad if it isn’t a big deal?” Cat hated it when Faith was mad. Which didn’t make much sense considering she was always testing her boundaries with her bondmate._

_“You don’t need to ask, little cat. You got the answer,” Faith said._

_Cat wanted to lie again, but she didn’t. It was far nicer to have Faith hold her close through the link than to feel her crushing disappointment. “Yeah,” she mumbled. She didn’t have to like knowing (or telling) the truth. “You’re mad ‘cause you think I know what I’m supposed to do and I don’t.”_

God, that memory… It was one of the last Cat had before the bond broke. Fifteen years later, she still hated to disappoint Faith. And just like the day in her bedroom, Cat started to cry. Tears slipped down her cheeks and dropped onto the collar of her jacket or splashed onto her chest. She didn’t bother to wipe them away. Her posture altered, shoulders dropping forward and chin settling close to her chest. The living embodiment of Cat’s tangled emotions.

She was still huddled in that position when the apartment door slid open.

“I’m sorry,” Cat choked out when two pairs of feet stopped just inside her field of vision.

Tara dropped to one knee and gently raised Cat’s chin with her fingers. “What are you apologizing for, sweetie?” Her smile did funny things to Cat’s stomach. “When you called, what did I tell you?”

Unable to hold Tara’s intense gaze, Cat focused on a spot just to the left of Tara’s eyes. “To come back into the apartment and kneel down. To…To wait for you.”

“Exactly.” One word. It was one stupid word. Yet it had Cat straightening and flushing with a sudden rush of happiness. “Cat, needing help, reaching out, following orders – there’s nothing wrong with that.”

It didn’t _feel_ like that. Cat had learned to stand on her own two feet. Because she had no bondmate, no Dominant, she’d never had the opportunity to lean on anyone for help. And now it grated on her pride. The happiness leeched away, replaced with sullen anger and resentment. If Faith and Tara had never come to Boston –

The thought cut off when a hand tangled in Cat’s hair and wrenched her head back. Wide-eyed, she stared up at Faith, the owner of that hand. “Looks like you think T’s lying, tiger. You want to tell your Dominant she don’t know what she’s talking about?”

Was that what Cat was doing? She was soconfused and so tired of riding an emotional rollercoaster. “No, Faith,” she said softly. 

Cat’s tears started up again, and Faith brushed them away. “Don’t, Cat. Don’t cry. Let Tara help. She’s real good at taking care of people. Tell her what you need.” Crouching next to Tara, she examined Cat closely. “Stubborn little shit.”

It was enough to get a reluctant laugh from Cat and a giggle from Tara.

“I told you to come to me if you needed anything. In fact, I made you promise not to go back to that bar,” it was amazing how much loathing Tara could put into one word, “when we had our discussion. I’m so proud of you for calling tonight. I know it wasn’t easy.”

No. No, it hadn’t been easy. It still wasn’t. Cat looked at Tara helplessly.

As if sensing Cat’s mental struggles, Tara leaned in and pressed a kiss to Cat’s forehead. “We’ll figure it out together. Your safeword is ‘red,’ Cat. If you say it, we stop. If you just need a break or to talk about something we do, you may use ‘yellow’.”

Basic words. The same words used in every club Cat had ever visited. “Yes, Ma’am,” she said, falling back on habit and protocol.

“Mmm, very nice, sweetie, but don’t tell me. Tell Faith. She’s your Domme for tonight.” Tara stood up and stepped away as Cat (and Faith) stared at her in shock. “Is there a problem, girls?” Damn it. Tara was _smirking._

When Faith’s hand dropped from Cat’s face, Cat risked a look at her. Faith was pale and clearly uneasy. “T, I know you mentioned me switchin’, but…”

Tara’s answer was an imperiously raised eyebrow and a lethally quiet, “Are you deliberately questioning my order?”

Shaking her head, Faith choked out a “No, Tara.”

“Then there’s no problem,” Tara said with a beatific smile.

“I ain’t ready to do this!” Faith pointed at Cat. “You told her to call you. Not me. _You’re_ the Domme. “

This looked like a domestic dispute in the making. Cat regretted making that call more with every passing second. “I don’t want to cause trouble between…”

“I’m not speaking to you at this time,” Tara stated quietly. With Tara glaring at her, Cat pressed her lips together and stared at the floor. “Take care of Cat, Faith. She needs you.”

More than Tara would ever know. Yet Cat didn’t want Tara to push Faith too far. Faith didn’t trust herself to Dominate. She’d told Cat she was afraid of what might happen. This was all wrong. “I’m sorry,” she said despite Tara’s previous statement. “Look, why don’t I just…”

This time, it was Faith who didn’t let her finish. “You got hard limits, tiger? Better tell me now.” Although she spoke to Cat, her gaze never left Tara’s. She’d picked up whatever gauntlet Tara had thrown.

“No. Faith, you don’t have to do this. I’ll be fine,” Cat protested. She started to stand. It was time to end this before things got further out of hand. Her body felt leaden, and her heart… Well, that had been ripped out a long time ago. What she felt now must be the phantom ache amputees suffered. She’d send Faith and Tara back to the hotel and stick with her original plan. The bar would take care of her immediate need, and Cat would schedule an appointment with Doctor Blaylock in the morning – before Tara had a chance to report her.

A callused hand gripped her shoulder before Cat managed to get all the way upright. “You suck at followin’ orders.” Faith stepped into Cat’s personal space as she pushed her back down to her knees. “You stay until I tell you to get up. Got it?”

There was more confidence in Faith’s bearing, and Cat responded to it. “Yes, Ma’am.”

That earned her a small smile. “Ma’am is sitting over there laughing at us. I’m never gonna be more than Faith.”

“Yes, Faith,” Cat acknowledged and then proved that she’d been paying attention. “My hard limits include watersports, blood play, or humiliation.” Being stuck in a sanitarium had been enough of that for one lifetime. “And nothing that leaves permanent marks.”

“Good girl, tiger.” Faith’s hand stroked Cat’s neck in approval. “I knew you could do it.”

The words and Faith’s praise soaked into Cat. She dropped her eyes and felt something deep inside settle. Her attention focused solely on Faith. Faith was her Domme; she would expect Cat to please her.

Seconds passed. Faith watched Cat; Cat felt it.

Cat nearly vibrated with a desperate need to shift or look up or ask what she should do.

“Let’s take this into the bedroom.” Slipping one arm behind Cat’s shoulders and wedging the other between Cat’s thighs and butt, Faith lifted Cat into her arms.

It was a natural move for Cat to tuck her head beneath Faith’s chin and nuzzle the soft skin of her throat. She was home. Bond or not, Faith’s memory of Cat or not, this was home. Cat sucked in a shuddering breath and slipped deeper into subspace. She felt warm and a little fuzzy, safe and cherished.

Faith cradled her close, and Cat relished the rise and fall of Faith’s chest against her side. “Where to, tiger?”

“Door on the left,” Cat answered immediately.

Muscles bunched and released as Faith strode smoothly down the short hallway. Cat listened to her firm steps and Tara’s lighter tread on the hardwoods. Although there were no lights on the in the room, Faith didn’t hesitate. She continued to the bed and gently sat Cat down on the mattress.

“Someone’s got way too many clothes on.” Deft hands unlaced and removed Cat’s boots and unbuttoned Cat’s leather pants.

Light flared on the other side of the bed. Cat blinked against the muted glare before searching the room. Tara sat across the room in Cat’s tattered recliner while Faith… Faith stood only inches away from Cat. When she saw Cat watching, Faith bent close. Closer, until she could drag her lips across Cat’s. With one swift tug, Faith yanked Cat’s pants over her hips and out from beneath her butt. They slid down her legs more slowly. Faith followed their movement with nips and kisses, and Cat forgot how to breathe.

So good. It felt so good. Cat lifted one leg and wrapped it partially around Faith’s hip.

The kisses stopped immediately, and Faith lifted her head to calmly stare at Cat.

The message was crystal clear. “Sorry, Faith.” Cat dropped her foot back to the floor and shivered as Faith rewarded her obedience with a sharp nip on the inside of her right thigh. Cat jerked and gripped the comforter tight enough to possibly shred it.

When Cat’s pants were all the way off, Faith made quick work of Cat’s vest. The way her eyes turned dark chocolate when she saw Cat’s desire-hardened nipples drove Cat’s arousal higher.

She squirmed and arched her back more. Pushing her breasts out, Cat taunted Faith.

The plan didn’t turn out the way she’d planned. Faith stepped back and crossed her arms. “You sure you want to play tonight, tiger?”

Cat flushed. Busted. “Yes, Faith. I’m sorry.” She sounded like a broken record. Why couldn’t she let go? Simply enjoy the moment? She’d never had a problem finding the right headspace until…until Faith had shown up. Cat’s emotions didn’t make sense. This was _Faith_. At eight, she’d known she belonged to Faith; she’d accepted Faith’s control (with more grace on some days than others). Now, though, Cat realized she didn’t know how to truly submit any more.

“You think too much.” Faith had moved closer without Cat noticing. “We’re gonna help you turn your brain off. This ain’t about _thinking_. It’s about feeling. That’s it. That’s all you got to do. My job is to make sure what you feel is what you need.” She ran her hands up and down Cat’s arms lightly. So lightly that Cat was torn between laughing at the almost-tickle and sighing in pleasure. Faith watched for her reaction and then moved her hands with startling speed to Cat’s breasts. Her callused fingers suddenly pinched and twisted Cat’s nipples until she cried out. “Felt that, didn’t you?” Her smile was all cocky Dominant.

Panting, Cat managed a nod. Hell, yes, she’d felt that. Her nipples throbbed in time with her heart. So did her clit.

“Time to teach you a few more things, tiger. Scoot up closer to the headboard,” Faith ordered. As Cat scrambled gracelessly backward, Faith retrieved a backpack that Tara had been carrying. She rummaged around and finally pulled out a leather pony blinder. “Maybe not bein’ able to see will keep you from worrying about what’s comin’ next.”

The fleece-lined leather blindfold slipped over Cat’s head. It was a tight fit, thanks to the elastic strap – and it completely cut off Cat’s sight. Not even a hint of light slipped underneath.

Cat froze, her heart rate kicking up. She strained to hear Faith. At first, she couldn’t hear anything except her own panting breaths. After a minute, though, she picked out more rustling nearby. The rip of Velcro separating.

A second later, Faith picked up Cat’s left wrist and wrapped it with something stiff yet soft. Cat’s jerk was instinctive. Being blind left her vulnerable; she didn’t like not knowing. Without thinking, she reached for Faith though their bond. She needed to know Faith was there. What she was feeling.

There was nothing there!

Now Cat yanked against Faith’s grip on her arm; except, Faith had already released Cat’s wrist and was stroking her arm and shoulder. “Easy, tiger. You didn’t mention bondage was a trigger.”

It wasn’t. “I’m fine,” Cat said. She couldn’t really admit that she’d freaked because she couldn’t feel Faith in their bond.

“Don’t lie.” A sharp slap on Cat’s thigh punished the untruth.

The spot burned for a moment then settled into a mild tingle. “I’m not. I mean I won’t,” Cat stuttered. “Cuffs,” she’d known what Faith had wrapped around her wrist once she stopped panicking, “don’t bother me. I like them.” Absolutely true.

She felt Faith move away. Imagined her standing at the side of the bed observing

The minutes passed.

What was Faith doing? Was she going to call this off? Did she think Cat was still lying? Why wasn’t Faith _doing anything_?

And suddenly, Cat realized what was happening.

“You didn’t hurt me, Faith.” Faith had told her the other night that she was afraid of losing control. That she didn’t have what it took to be a Dominant. “I didn’t…I couldn’t…” Damn it. Cat couldn’t very well say she’d tried to reach for Faith through their bond. “You stopped talking, and I didn’t know where you were. I need to hear you, Faith. Please just talk to me. Please, Faith.” With the blindfold cutting off her sight, hearing Faith’s voice in the darkness would be just like listening to Faith through the bond. Cat could pretend they were still linked.

But that wouldn’t happen if Faith was too afraid. “I know you won’t hurt me, Faith,” she repeated. “I trust you to take care of me.”

“I’m a Slayer.” It must mean something to Faith, but Cat didn’t understand. “I wouldn’t mean to hurt you…”

Ah. Cat put the pieces together. “You wouldn’t hurt me unless that’s what I needed.” This Faith was so different than the strong, impatient, completely controlling Faith she’d once known. “I trust you to take care of me,” she said one more time before relaxing back on the bed and holding out her right wrist.

Faith took the proffered wrist, already cuffed thanks to the Red Cuff Cat wore, and clipped it to its mate on Cat’s other wrist. “You’re beautiful, tiger.” Cat’s bound hands were carefully placed on the bed above her head. “Noticed you right away, when you ran into the conference room and almost threw the coffee on the floor.” Adding cuffs to Cat’s ankles took less time even though Faith changed the final step and clipped them to the metal rings in the footboard of Cat’s bed.

“And tonight…tonight you’re mine, aren’t you?” Faith asked.

“Yes, Faith.” Tonight. Tomorrow. Always. Cat knew she’d never be able to walk away from her broken bond with Faith now.

She heard something heavy drop to the floor. Then the sound of a zipper. More things hitting the floor. Probably Faith’s clothing. The bed dipped near Cat’s left side and then Faith ran her mouth and hands slowly over Cat’s body. Licking, tasting, nipping.

Fifteen years of fantasies, and yet Cat could never have imagined feeling like she did right now as Faith caressed her so gently and lovingly. The heat and intensity were unbearable and wonderful. That it was _Faith_ behind the kisses… Cat floated on sensation.

Her skin grew sensitive. She shuddered with each new touch.

Without warning, something cold and sharp prickled her stomach. Cat cried out and tensed. Just as quickly as it appeared, the pain was gone. Different hands, more confident and less callused, massaged Cat’s calves and feet.

“New rules, tiger.” Faith had straddled Cat’s stomach, leaning forward so that they were pressed tightly together. Her breath heated Cat’s ear as she whispered, “You want me to talk to you, I got you covered. But I want you to give up something in return. My price? Your voice. Not,” her teeth raked the skin below Cat’s ear, “one sound unless you safeword.”

There was no way. Cat knew she’d never be able to stay quiet. Not with Faith and Tara touching her.

“Nod if you understand,” Faith ordered.

Of course, Cat nodded. She did understand Faith’s politely worded command. She just didn’t agree with it.  Taking a deep breath and clenching her jaw, Cat vowed to do her very best to meet Faith’s expectations. No noise. Period.

Faith noticed her brace and chuckled. “You get all tense like that when you go to the bar?”

“No, Faith,” Cat answered immediately and then flushed in shame. She managed to bite back the automatic apology for breaking the rules within half a second of hearing them.

“Still not following orders,” Faith didn’t sound surprised, only disappointed.

Cat’s head turned away in response.

Rustling, probably from Tara’s backpack, filled the room. Cat’s breathing quickened. What was Faith going to do? What had she brought? A tendril of fear tightened Cat’s muscles and prodded her to pull on the ties binding her ankles to the bed. Faith’s lack of comment wasn’t helping with her frame of mind.

A light jingle prefaced Faith’s return. “Tonight’s goal was to help you feel, tiger. Feel instead of think. Stop thinking.” She pinched and tugged on Cat’s left nipple until it grew hard from the attention. “From now on, you’re going to _feel_.” A clamp closed on the same nipple and Cat risked destroying her molars holding in a cry of pain and surprise. Faith played with the nipple clamp and the pressure backed off slightly.

Cat panted and enjoyed the balloon of arousal as it merged with and then eclipsed the pain. She was still basking in the glow when Faith treated her right nipple to the same treatment. The bed seemed to drop away, and Faith’s voice echoed strangely in Cat’s consciousness when she began talking again.

“There you go. Now you got the idea.” Faith flicked one of the clamps and waited until Cat stopped writhing in response. “Long as you keep following the rules, all the ‘feeling’ will be good.” Cat felt her shift on the bed. “Where were we?” More pinpricks of pain ran along Cat’s arm. Her chest. More lightly over her breasts just above the clamps. “Mmm, much better, tiger.”

Faith’s voice whispered encouragement and praise as the pinpricks were replaced with the slap and burn of leather on Cat’s chest. The blows stung more than hurt. They marched from beneath her collarbone to the crest of Cat’s breasts, avoiding the clamped nipples, on both sides. The tops of Cat’s thighs were targets, too. Her skin heated to the level of a mild sunburn.

Cat, though, heated more. Her mind fell away as the leather completed its first pass and started over. Smooth, rhythmic. It pulled Cat with it into a new place in her head.

When slender fingers stroked through the slick folds of Cat’s labia, it was an extension of the burgeoning warmth. Her hips rose to follow the fingers as they played a counterpoint to the leather. Stroke, up into the leather. Down, stroke, up into the leather. Through it all, Faith’s voice was there in the background providing an anchor for Cat to cling to. As long as Faith’s voice was there, Cat would be safe in her subspace. That voice praised and teased, encouraged and taunted.

By the time Faith started the fourth circuit with the leather, Cat hovered on the edge. Her body shook with fine tremors and her head tossed restlessly. She did not, however, utter a sound. Locked into a world where only feelings mattered, she felt free to let go. To let the now-sharper blows push her closer and closer to explosive pleasure.

Each strike of the leather increased in force and the fingers delved deeper and faster. Now the need for silence was a struggle. Cat arched and twisted in her bonds. Her hands fisted until her biceps burned. She couldn’t... With a wordless shout, Cat broke under the bubble of pleasure. The leather was replaced with tender hands and kisses, and a kiss caressed her swollen and tender clit. Aided by those hands and lips, Cat collapsed back onto the bed and sucked in much-needed oxygen.

“Beautiful, tiger. So fucking beautiful,” Faith whispered in a tight, rough voice.  She and Tara removed the cuffs on Cat’s wrists and ankles as well as the blindfold. Then Faith lifted Cat off the bed so Tara could pull down the comforter and sheets.

Cat was so tired, emotionally and physically drained. Her mind was blissfully blank. Closing her eyes, she let a strong pair of arms pull her close as a body snuggled up to her back. Another body slipped in front of her and arranged Cat’s head onto a soft chest.


	17. Chapter 17

“Cat.” The voice came at the same time a hand touched Cat’s shoulder. “Wake up, sweetie. You have to get ready for work.”

Blinking against the wedge of light emanating from the bathroom, Cat saw Tara sitting next to her on the bed. Tara. Oh, God. Tara _and Faith._ She shot upright then scooted back to put as much room as possible between them.

Tired blue eyes watched Cat’s actions. “We need to talk, Cat, but now is really not the time,” Tara said. She appeared more worn and worried than Cat had ever witnessed. When she noticed Cat watching her, though, Tara’s expression smoothed out. “I left breakfast warming on the stove. Faith and I have to stop by the hotel for a change of clothes. Please tell Detective Rizzoli that we’re running a little late.”

Tara wasn’t telling Cat everything. Cat didn’t even need her years as a cop to spot the evasion. “What’s wrong?”

With a more natural smile, Tara shook her head. “Not now, sweetie.” She got up and dropped a gentle kiss on Cat’s lips. “I promise I’ll explain everything as soon as I can. Just…Just remember. Faith and I are here for you whenever you need us. Remember that, Cat.”

The statement had the force of an order, but Cat didn’t understand. “Are you OK?” Wait a minute. Cat untangled from the nest of sheets and jumped from the bed. Faith wasn’t in the room, and Cat didn’t hear anyone else in the apartment. “Where’s Faith?”

“You and Willow. The resemblance just keeps growing.” She stood and picked up her discarded backpack, looping it over one shoulder. “You see too much for your own good.”

That didn’t sound good. In fact, that sounded the opposite of good. What had Cat done when she’d called and set last night into motion? Cat strode toward the bedroom door. She had to see Faith; had to talk to her, explain.

 “Faith’s fine. Or…She will be.” Somehow, Tara intercepted Cat. She blocked her path, and it was clear she was _not_ getting out of the way. “We pushed Faith out of her comfort zone last night.” Meeting Cat’s eyes, Tara continued. “Don’t you dare blame yourself, Cat. I can see the wheels turning in your head now. It wasn’t your fault. The decision to bring Faith and put her in charge was mine.”

Cat didn’t buy it. “If I hadn’t…”

Tara imperiously snapped up a hand, and Cat automatically stopped talking. “I am Faith’s Domme.”

The words rubbed like sandpaper over Cat’s already exposed emotions. “So?” Cat dared Tara to tell her something she didn’t already know – and hate.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you that as her Domme,” Tara stressed that point again, “it’s my job to give Faith what she needs, even if it isn’t what she think she wants.” Her voice softened and she placed a gentle hand on Cat’s cheek. “You were what she needed last night, sweetie. You and the gift of your submission.”

A little tendril of warmth uncoiled around Cat’s heart. She’d given Faith something she needed. Faith _needed_ her. “But…”

“But this is what Faith does when she gets scared, Cat. She runs.” Tara didn’t appear upset by that, merely accepting. “Once she has a chance to think about things, she’ll be fine. Faith’s past…” Tara broke off and peered intently at Cat.

“I know…well… Faith said she didn’t trust herself. That she’d…done things,” Cat offered. It hurt, deep inside, to know that what Faith had said to her outside the coffee shop was the first glimpse into Faith’s life Cat had. Faith had never shared anything even when their bond existed.

Tara continued to watch Cat closely for another minute before her shoulders slumped and she sighed. Whatever she’d been looking for, she apparently hadn’t found, and Cat wanted to ask what it was. She didn’t, though, because Tara stepped away. “Come on. You need breakfast and a shower. I don’t want Detective Rizzoli to be upset with you for being late.”

“What about…” Cat wasn’t willing to let Tara off the hook so easily.

She’d forgotten that Dominants didn’t respond well to pushy submissives. One of Tara’s eyebrows arched and there was a hint of frost in her next comment. “Eat breakfast, Cat. Eat, take a shower, and go to work.”

Cat managed to fight the edict for all of two seconds. Damned arrogant Dominant. “Yes, Ma’am,” Cat choked out.

Another sigh, a soft kiss, and Tara left the apartment. The quiet closing of the door echoed through the apartment. On autopilot, Cat followed Tara’s final order to the letter. An amazing breakfast of eggs, bacon, and pancakes. A long hot shower.

The Cat Train derailed as she put on her jacket and headed for the door. A white envelope rested on the hardwood just inside the apartment.

Frowning, Cat picked it up, carefully using only her fingertips and the very edges of the envelope. She turned it over. No stamp or postmark. Absolutely no writing. She sniffed it. No perfume (not that she normally received perfumed letters stuffed under her door). Cat returned to the kitchen. She kept a pair of rubber cleaning gloves under the sink. After pulling those on, she used the tip of a paring knife to slice open the envelope and an awkwardly large pair of hot dog tongs to pull out the slip of paper inside.

The typed message was blunt.

_Tell your Domme about the broken bond. Tell her who you really are._

Cat stared at the paper in horror. Her first instinct was to destroy the note and go to work as if she’d never seen it. She’d tell Jane – and her contact at the Legion – that she’d never received the envelope. That there hadn’t been the promised “task” waiting for her this morning.

Even as Cat considered that option, she discarded it. Six people had died. So far, Cat was the best hope the team had for preventing more deaths. She had to stay in character; had to take this information to Jane and the rest of the taskforce. The only question was: how? How could she reveal the truth that the Legion’s order revealed?

She could lie. Tell everyone that she’d run into her Domme somewhere in the city. They could use another detective to play a part, and Cat could enact a public scene where she told the woman about the broken bond.

That would work, and it would keep Cat’s secret safe.

Except…Cat didn’t want to do it that way. The Legion might be a crazy cult bent on world domination and death, but they had one thing absolutely correct. Cat needed to move on from her bond, and the only way she’d ever know she’d done that was to tell Faith. Tell Faith and see that there was not even a glimmer of recollection or recognition in Faith’s eyes.

With shaking hands, Cat dropped the letter and envelope into a Ziploc baggie and stripped off the rubber gloves. She was going to do it. She was going to tell Faith.

The thought repeated on an endless loop in Cat’s mind during the drive to the station house. Fairly bouncing with anticipation, she strode through the bullpen straight for the conference room. And that’s where her plan hit a snag.

The room was already filled. Korsak and Frost hovered over Frost’s laptop. Jane flipped through case files with Maura standing right behind her, one hand idly stroking Jane’s arm. Uniformed officers clustered near the walls, chatting and waiting for someone to tell them what to do.

Then there was Tara. Sitting calmly in the midst of the bustle, she watched Cat hover in the doorway. Faith sat cross-legged at Tara’s feet, head resting against Tara’s knee. She, too, watched Cat.

It was enough to stop Cat in her tracks. Faith appeared at peace. Whatever she might have felt this morning, whatever had sent her running after their scene last night, Faith was completely at ease in her submission to Tara right now.

“Morning,” Cat said, surprised at how normal her voice sounded. “Jane, can I talk to you and Maura next door?” It was harder than Cat had thought it would be to tack on, “You, too, please Tara.” The “please” snuck in to the request, a subconscious nod to the role Tara played in her hastily revised strategy.

“What’s the matter, Cat? You don’t like suave older men anymore?” Korsak teased.

She managed a wink. “I didn’t think you’d leave Dana for me, Sir, so I had to move on.” She stepped back into the bullpen to allow her soon-to-be co-conspirators out of the conference room and heard Korsak’s laugh at her response.

The small group was quiet as they traded one conference room for another. “Something happen?” Jane was all business.

“Yeah,” Cat admitted. She closed the door and leaned against it as she held out the baggie holding the Legion’s note. “I found this under the door this morning.”

Jane took the bag and laid it on the table behind her before donning a pair of latex gloves. “They move fast. Didn’t the guy last night say it would be twenty-four hours? Did they make you, Cat?”

It was a possibility; yet Cat didn’t think her identity had been discovered. Tara’s friend had done a good job of sticking close to reality. Cat’s alter ego, Cat Matthews, was a detective in Vice. Why would the Legion dig farther than that?  “I don’t think so. The test. It’s based on some things I told Alina and the group at that session in North End.”

Still pressed against the door, Cat watched Jane carefully remove the envelope and note. “Wow. What the hell did you tell them?” she asked after reading the typed lines. “How can you tell your Domme anything? I thought you lost your bond a long time ago.”

“I did.” Cat realized she was sweating heavily and shucked off her coat. “During the session, though, I got a little carried away.” It was still too hot. Or cold. Cat’s hands were freezing even as her face and neck heated. “I told them that my bondmate had showed up at work and that she didn’t remember who I was.” The relief of actually saying that was almost crippling, and Cat prayed that no one in the room realized it was truth rather than fiction.

Gauging reactions, Cat was confident that no one had a clue. Jane and Maura were preoccupied with the note, and Tara had wandered to the window at the back of the room. Good. That was good.  She’d gotten over the first hurdle. “I was thinking I could get a Domme and sub pair to pose as my bondmate and her new Dominant. Do a big scene somewhere public.”

“That’s excellent, Cat.” Maura nodded approvingly. “Jane or I could recommend someone to play the couple.”

It wasn’t what Cat had in mind. “Actually, I was thinking Tara and Faith could do it.” No one said anything, and Cat rushed into her “rational” explanation. “In the group session, I told everyone my bondmate turned up a few days ago – just like Faith and Tara. And I said my Dominant was now a sub. Not to mention someone, maybe from the Legion, spotted me and Faith together at Marine Park.”

“Hmmm, it could work. Tara?” Jane turned to the only member of the four-woman group who’d remained silent.

Tara turned away from the window. “It’s a good plan.” Her eyes locked with Cat’s. “Are you sure you want to do this, though? Once you do, there’s no going back. Can you live with that?”

Feeling as if she’d missed something, Cat hesitated. “I have to do this,” she said with complete honesty. Now that the Legion had planted the idea, she _had_ to tell Faith. This little charade would allow her to do it without having to admit her real relationship to Faith.

Unless, of course, Faith suddenly remembered.

And that was something Cat was afraid to hope for. “We need someone inside the Legion, and I’ve got a really good shot at that – if we do this.”

“It’s your choice, Detective,” Tara stated. “If this is what you want, Faith and I are happy to help.”

***

Faneuil Hall Marketplace was packed. Cat wrinkled her nose and trudged after Tara and Faith. She’d wanted someplace busy, not the city’s worst tourist trap. Still, if Faith and Tara were visiting Boston, it was a good bet they’d end up here eventually.

“Hey, there any place to eat around here, tiger?” Faith didn’t know about the plan. Tara had been very clear on that point. If Faith knew, she might not respond with the right level of surprise when Cat made her declaration.

The declaration. Cat’s chance to finally tell Faith the truth. Now that it was time, Cat thought she might throw up. Her stomach churned and bile burned her throat. If she had to smell food, too… “Sure. There’s food,” she snapped. How the Hell could Faith think about food at a time like this?

Faith narrowed her eyes. “You got a problem you want to tell me about?”

And just like that, Cat forgot about her nerves. She forgot about the plan. She simply reacted to Faith’s tone. “Yeah, there is.” One stride put her right in Faith’s personal space. “I’m tired of you playing like you’re my Domme. You _are_ my Domme!”

People streamed around them; only a few paused to stare. Cat ignored them in favor of watching Faith.

“Tiger, calm down.” Faith was all gentle as she pushed Cat out of the pedestrian traffic and onto one of the benches along the wall. Tara trailed along. “Just because we played last night, it doesn’t mean...”

“Shut up, Faith. Just. Shut. Up.”


	18. Chapter 18

Cat could sense Faith holding onto her temper with both hands. Her eyes blazed and she loomed over Cat. Some part of Cat was amazed she wasn’t more cowed by Faith’s bearing. Instead of rousing her submissive instincts, it fed Cat’s rage.

“You’re my Dominant, Faith. Since I was eight. You were there, in my head and my heart. All cocky attitude and orders. And I loved you. I _trusted_ you. All I could think about was being yours,” Cat told Faith. She ignored the way Faith’s anger disappeared, replaced by shock. The way one hand had risen as if to touch Cat’s cheek. “I should have known it wasn’t real. I trusted you, but you never trusted me. Did you, Faith? Not once. Not for a second. For four years I begged for the smallest detail about your life. You never answered me. ‘It ain’t important, little cat’. It’s all you ever told me.”

There was no relief in finally telling the story. She’d pinned everything on this moment. It was supposed to be that one, shining moment. The moment that corrected the horror of Cat’s past. But it wasn’t working the way Cat had planned. As the words poured out, Cat didn’t feel triumphant or happy; she simply hurt. The memories ripped at the fragile scabs that had grown over the mental and emotional wounds. And seeing tears streaming down Faith’s face burned like acid on Cat’s submissive soul. She had to force the rest of the tale out. If only she’d never started this. If only she’d gotten someone else to play the part of her missing Dominant. “I used to blame myself. Did you know that?”

Now the blame really _was_ Cat’s. She was deliberately hurting Faith. Tara, too. Faith’s Dominant watched the scene with a stricken expression, one hand resting on Faith’s neck - and the collar there. An unspoken gesture of possession. When Cat paused, Tara collected herself. She pulled Faith back into her arms protectively. “Cat, you need to...”

“I’m not talking to you,” Cat snapped aggressively, unconsciously echoing Tara’s words from the previous night. “I used to blame myself,” she repeated. “What did I do to drive you away? It had to be my fault. You were my Domme; you were supposed to take care of me and it had to be something I did. You were punishing me because I did something that disappointed you.”

The busy mall and all the gawkers disappeared.

_“Hold her down!” a man in a lab coat shouted. He gestured at two other men dressed in white uniforms. “Stop staring at her and hold her down!” Seconds later, hard hands grabbed Cat and pinned her to the lumpy mattress. Something pricked her arm and fire poured into her veins._

_Twisting frantically, Cat screamed - as she’d been doing since Faith’s voice and presence had dropped from her mind. “Faith! I’m sorry. Please. Please, don’t leave. I’ll do whatever you want. Please. Please...” The burning slowed and everything around Cat grew soft and fuzzy. It was so hard to think. There had been...something...someone...Faith. “Faith. Please. Don’t...help me.”_

Cat swiped impatiently at the tears streaking her face. She wasn’t that young girl anymore. She didn’t need Faith to save her. She wasn’t going to be afraid or lonely or sorry any more. None of this was her fault. “You left me, Faith. You did this. You made me into something weak and pathetic and _I’m done!_ ” She shouted the last two words and had the pleasure of watching Faith flinch away and huddle in Tara’s embrace. “You’re not my Domme anymore, Faith. You don’t deserve me.” Shoving past Faith and the people clustered around them, she stormed out of the mall.

The sun was bright and blazing. The light disoriented Cat for a moment. She stumbled to a halt. Her skin was sticky, clammy with sweat. Pressure built and she dashed for a trashcan down the sidewalk just in time to lose the remnants of breakfast. When her stomach settled, Cat walked aimlessly down the sidewalk. She couldn’t go back to the station house. Not yet. Not with the memory of Faith’s pained expression hanging before her eyes. Not with her emotions still teetering between killing rage and despair.

Snippets of memory flickered as she stalked through the Financial District.

_“You know, I love talking to you, little cat.” Faith’s voice was quiet, almost subdued. It filled Cat with a weird feeling. Almost scared. Faith was never quiet. She was always brash and funny or stern. “Tell me more about your family. Your Ma helps out at the school? Why?”_

_Cat giggled and hugged her pillow (imagining it was Faith). “She said she has to make sure the teacher teaches me all the important stuff.”_

She’d been eight then.  Eight and so clueless. Had Faith wanted a glimpse of Cat’s happy home life to offset her own less privileged and satisfying one?

_“Why do you think you did something to make Faith go away?” Dr. Blaylock leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. He had a habit of spinning in his chair as Cat talked, as if what she said wasn’t really important to him. She knew it was; he was giving her time to answer and the pretence of privacy. “What could you, a child of twelve, do that was horrible?”_

Had Cat been wrong this whole time? Had it been something that _Faith_ had done that had broken their bond? She’d said she’d done things. Things that made her afraid to be a Domme, afraid to lose control.

What if it hadn’t been any of those things? If Faith’s childhood had been as bad as Tara hinted, could something have happened _to_ Faith that caused the bond to break?

Did it even matter at this point? The bond was gone. It clearly wasn’t coming back. Cat had thrown the truth into Faith’s face and she still hadn’t remembered anything.

By the time Cat came out of her whirling thoughts, she’d reached the Harborwalk. It was absolutely frigid as wind whipped off the water. Cat ignored the discomfort and dropped onto a bench overlooking the harbor.

She’d done it. She’d told Faith the truth, and the fact that Faith hadn’t _known_ it was the truth wasn’t relevant. If anything would have helped Faith remember, Cat’s tirade at the Marketplace would have been it. Cat’s hopes and dreams were gone.

What was she going to do now? Staring out at the white-capped waves, Cat couldn’t manage the energy for a single option. She was too tired. Yelling at Faith had drained her. It was much better to sit here, unthinking and blessedly unfeeling.

Cat sat there until the sun began to sink behind the nearby buildings. Her hands ached and her lungs burned from the cold air. God, she had to get back to the station house. This was the second time in a week she’d gone off the reservation. Fishing in her jacket pocket for her phone with stiff fingers, Cat stifled an impulse to simply walk away from everything. After today, did being a cop really matter?

“You know, sittin’ out in this weather’ll put you in the hospital,” Faith announced from behind Cat.

Phone forgotten, Cat spun on the bench and stared at Faith in disbelief.

Faith’s grin was a poor imitation of the real thing. “Close your mouth, tiger. Wind might blow crap out of the harbor and choke you.” Dropping onto the bench, she stared moodily out at the water. “You shouldn’t have run off, Cat. Not after everything you said.”

Cat’s heart stopped. No. No way. “Faith?” Her voice cracked. “Do you…”

“All that shit you said, was it true?” Faith didn’t notice the way Cat watched her, eyes wide and filled with hope. “Did your Domme really leave you high and dry?”

And just like that, Cat slammed back to harsh reality. Her breath exploded on a sob. She couldn’t do this again. She pushed away from the bench and stumbled as cold-stiffened muscles refused to work.

Warm hands grabbed her, held her gently. “Damn it, tiger. Stop.” Ignoring Cat’s struggles and wild swings, Faith pulled Cat back to the bench. “You’re freezing.” With an impressive display of strength, she lifted Cat onto her lap. “Stop struggling, damn it. Sit here and let me warm you up. Slayer’s run hot.”

Cat didn’t have much choice with Faith’s arms trapping her in place. She stayed as stiff and still as possible, though.

“When you started yelling, you scared the crap out of me. Not like you were gonna take me in a fight.” There was unconscious arrogance in that phrase. “But I thought, what if you really believed all that? What if I’d been your Domme and I’d fucked up your life the way I’d fucked up mine?”

Cat had been right. She’s really hurt Faith with the truth. “Tara told you what we’d planned?” surely that would have helped Faith deal with her guilt and fears.

A rough chuckle sent Cat bouncing in Faith’s lap. “Yeah, after I put a hole in a trashcan at the mall.” She held up a hand, showing off healing cuts and bruises.

Reaching for her hand, Cat cradled it carefully. “Oh my God! Did you get it X-rayed? What were you _thinking!_ ”

“I thought I’d done that to you, Cat.” Faith managed to turn her hand enough to push up Cat’s sleeve. “I thought I’d given you this.” Cat’s red leather cuff peeked out for a second. “Couldn’t figure out what I’d done. Where I’d screwed up.” Her lips twisted bitterly. “Lots of options to pick from.”

In a tiny voice, Cat whispered, “Would it bother you? If you’d been my Domme and broke the bond?”

The arms around Cat tightened convulsively. “It would kill me, tiger. Any real Dominant would rather hurt _themselves_ rather than their submissive.” Tilting her head, she peered down at Cat. “Can you imagine Tara’s face if she did something and it really hurt me? Or Maura with Jane? And I ain’t even a Domme. Dominants are wired funny. They got a _need_ to keep us safe.”

Cat’s world view shifted. She’d blamed herself for breaking the bond. Then Faith. And, in some strange way, Tara. But Faith was right. No real Dominant set out to deliberately harm their submissive. What happened at the end of a whip or during punishment might _hurt_ , but it wasn’t a lasting pain.

Faith shifted Cat slightly until Cat’s head tucked beneath her chin. “You never answered my first question. Was what you said to me true? Do you know who your Domme is and she don’t remember you?”

There was no way Cat was answering that.

“See, I already know, Cat. You just went all stiff and if I didn’t have a death grip, you’d be running away. And today in the mall… Unless you’re some kind of actress, you weren’t playin’.” Faith rubbed her chin over Cat’s hair. “You’ve been dealing with this on your own, haven’t you? It’s why you’ve been doing all the stupid shit lately.”

Why not? The day was already a nightmare of epic proportions. Throwing good sense into the freezing wind, Cat burrowed into Faith and whispered, “Yeah. Yeah, I know who she is.”

“And you didn’t tell anybody ‘cause you’re a stubborn pain in the ass.” Faith sounded absolutely confident in her assessment. “No wonder you were slumming in that bar. Jesus.” She fell silent, and Cat heard her sigh. “We’re a pair, you and me. Got the same self destructive issue.”

Cat couldn’t stop the wry, mocking tone when she replied, “You trawl for nameless Dominants in bars?”

“Bitch.” Faith didn’t sound upset. “But you’re kinda right. Bars were great places for booze and sex. And if I needed to scratch that particular itch, I’d hook up.” The words trailed off, and Cat wondered if she’d pushed Faith too hard again. If the sharing was over. Then Faith continued more slowly and quietly. “After I got Called, I went off the deep end. You can’t imagine, tiger. One day you’re normal. Dodging you Ma’s drunken rages and her creepy johns. The next? You’re Superman. Only I didn’t get the memo on the whole ‘fighting for right’ deal. Looked like I was gonna end up like Red Tornado and kill off the Justice League.”

Not well versed in the world of comics, Cat wrestled with Faith’s analogy. “You said you’d done things. Did you hurt someone? B? Buffy? The girl you were fighting when you bonded with Tara?”

Faith stirred restlessly - and remained silent.

“You know, someone told me recently that you have to let your friends help you.” Cat was cautious yet firm. Whatever had happened still bothered Faith. Bothered Faith enough to deny her own Dominant side, to fear actually hurting anyone she played with. “I’d like to think I was your friend.”

“Don’t remind me I said that.” Faith’s humor sounded forced.

Tilting her head and peering up at Faith, Cat followed her lead. “Too late. We seem to have these ‘heart to hearts’ in cold, windy parks. And if you don’t take your own advice soon, it will be just as dark today as it was the last time.”

When Faith’s chin dipped, Cat knew she’d won. She immediately wished she hadn’t, when Faith said, “I killed a guy. A human.”

It was not what Cat had expected. “What...?” All her skills as an interrogator fled; she couldn’t pull her thoughts together enough to ask the right questions.

“It was an accident. Me and B were out Slaying and met some vamps in an alley. It’s the best rush ever, Cat. Only I got carried away. Staked a vamp who wasn’t a vamp.” Faith’s shuddering breaths vibrate through Cat. When Faith fell silent, Cat let her sit this time. Her patience paid off. After a few seconds, the tale resumed. “B tried to help, but I wouldn’t listen. I’d saved dozens of people; one dead guy shouldn’t count.”

Suddenly snippets of her conversation with Faith the night after her trip to the Legion club made sense. Faith had told her about pushing people away. This is what she’d meant. “What about the Council?” Or had Buffy covered for Faith?

“They got the same rules as everybody else, just a whole lot worse.” Faith was board stiff beneath Cat. “You do something stupid and get reported, it’s judicial punishment. Same with the Council only... Slayers got a special bonus because of the super powers. You go off the deep end, and the Council can take away your Slayer powers.”

The chill that hit Cat had nothing to do with the winter weather.

“Buffy managed to talk the Council down the first time. Only I kept doing stupid shit.” Faith’s voice was inexorable. It went on and on; Cat understood. Once the story got started, it had to come out. She turned on Faith’s lap and wrapped her arms around Faith as tightly as she could. “There was this guy. The Mayor of Sunnydale.”

This guy. Cat had been a cop too long not to recognize “this guy” as a huge piece of the story.

Faith didn’t prove her wrong. “I went to work for him. Told Buffy and her Superfriends to fuck off.”

It was far worse than anything Cat could have imagined.

“The Mayor, he wasn’t so bad. At least, I didn’t think so. He took care of me,” Faith admitted. “Like I was a daughter. Never had that before. Never had a real family, not one that treated me like I belonged. Like I was good enough. Only then he started doing shit to turn into a demon, and... I couldn’t...” Her voice cracked and wavered; dampness dropped into Cat’s hair. “He sent me to pick up a special delivery. Part of the ‘pick up’ was to kill the guy bringing the package.”

Cat thought for a moment she might throw up again. “Faith?”

“I didn’t, tiger. I almost did. I mean, I was at the delivery site with this sweet compound bow all ready. And Buffy showed up. That’s what started the big fight.” A hint of laughter lightened Faith’s voice. “Started there and spilled out all over SunnyD. Didn’t end until T showed up in my head a couple hours later on the roof of my apartment. Things changed after that. Tara got the Council off my ass and made sure I got the help I needed.”

“I’m sorry.” It was such a pathetic comment. Cat wanted to hold Faith and take away all of that pain. “I’m so sorry, Faith.”

Faith curled into Cat’s crushing hug. “I’m not.” She pulled back and gave Cat a watery smile. “Don’t know if I would have found Tara otherwise. She’s my life, tiger.”

Cat’s eyes burned and she blinked rapidly. “She is pretty awesome,” she agreed honestly. Tara had certainly shown Cat more care and attention than she’d ever received before - even though Cat wasn’t her submissive.

“Now we got to work on finding you someone.” Faith sat up straighter, hand tugging on Cat’s hair until she had to look up at Faith. “Got it, tiger?”

Staring into Faith’s determined eyes, Cat knew that would never happen. “No, Faith. I don’t want anyone else. I still love my Domme.”

“Even though she let you down? That don’t make sense,” Faith said. “You deserve someone like Tara. Someone to take care of you.” Her fingers released Cat’s hair and sifted through the strands. “You were beautiful last night; you can’t tell me it isn’t something you need more than once in a while.”

Heat streaked through Cat and she felt her head tilt into Faith’s hand. “Not going to lie to you any more than I would to Tara,” she said huskily. “But I can’t walk away from the bond. I love her, and it’s not ever going to change.” More than that, nestled against Faith as she did her best to take care of Cat, she admitted that she also _liked_ Faith. More with each passing day. All that strength so carefully controlled despite her past. Cat felt protected and cherished. How much better would it be if Faith was acting as Cat’s Domme?

Placing Faith’s happiness above her own sucked. And Cat wouldn’t have it any other way. “We should probably get back. I don’t want to get permanently stuck on Coffee Duty.” She reluctantly climbed off Faith’s lap, teeth chattering immediately from the loss of warmth. “I’ll even spring for the cab since you kept me from freezing to death.”

Faith got up and stretched. “We could get ahead of Jane’s bitch session. Stop for coffee on the way back?”

“You’re a genius.” She basked in Faith’s grin at her compliment. “So...I forgot to ask. How did you find me here?”

A shaking head and a big sigh indicated Cat might have done something wrong. “You call yourself a detective, tiger? Ever heard of GPS chips in cell phones?”

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

In the end, Cat and Faith picked up a lot more than coffee on the way to the station. “I never got to the food court, tiger. Once you ran out, me and T went toe to toe.” Only her dimples kept Cat from apologizing - again. “If ya’ don’t feed me soon, I might start nibbling on your arm.”

She’d laughed openly when Cat flushed.

Feeding a Slayer was apparently a daunting task. Cat staggered behind Faith, both of them loaded with bags of food and coffee mugs. The conference room held only the core team, all of them focused on a red-haired woman projected onto the wall.

“...anyway, I decided to do a little digging myself. The Boston office isn’t new. They just don’t have as much experience as we do,” she announced, her voice emanating from the speakers hooked to Frost’s laptop. “Did you notice a reference to Master Phillip in the transcripts from Detective McLearen’s visit to the Legion meeting?”

With complete disregard for the conversation in progress, Faith dumped her bags onto the conference room table. The thud and rustle earned a glare from Jane; the woman on the wall peered into the room (through her webcam). “Still thinking with your stomach, Faith? I thought Tara would put a stop to that.”

Faith whipped around and pointed at a video camera on a tripod, a new addition to the room. “Push me, Red, and I’ll pay a visit to Janna. You told her about that thing with the new kids, did you?”

Oh, that appeared to be a low blow. Cat spotted the intricately worked leather collar on Red’s neck. Threatening a sub with calling their Dominant was bad form. The woman’s reaction, however, showed that the teasing (and threats) were simply part of her relationship with Faith.  

“You wouldn’t! Besides, she probably already knows. Damned mind reading witch.” Red pouted dramatically and then grinned so widely all her teeth flashed across the screen. “So you missed the first part of my presentation. Start grazing and I’ll fill you in on what we found. Otherwise, you’ll ask a bunch of questions I answered while you were obviously raiding every fast food restaurant in Boston.”

As if her words were a starter’s pistol, everyone leaped for the table and the plethora of food. Cat got dragged to a chair between Faith and Tara, and Faith guarded all the best selections until Cat filled a plate to overflowing.

Cat picked at her food and leaned back in her chair. There were new photos and information on the white board at the far side of the room. A picture of Alina was connected by dotted lines to Dominik and Reid.  Allison Parker, Senior Vice President of Madison Streeter Investments. Dierk Armin, Financial Analyst of ReiseBank. Reid Fletcher, former Navy Seal.

The pieces were falling into place. And Red was there with the glue. “When I started reading the transcript, I assumed Master Phillip was some Dominant member of the Legion. Then one of the local Slayers mentioned a new power broker in the area.”

“Let me guess,” Korsak interrupted. “Master Phillip.”

“Exactly.” Red disappeared from the screen, replaced with a series of newspaper clippings. “Before the murders started, the Boston office was tracking an influx of demons. A few of them were…persuaded to talk about why.”

She kept talking as Faith leaned over to Cat. “I’m good at the persuadin’ stuff. Vamps always tell me what I want to know.”

“Really?” Cat murmured back. “Do you flash your dimples and ask nicely?”

Pushing up the sleeve of her sweatshirt, Faith flexed her arm. Muscles bunched into a perfectly displayed bicep. “Not quite.”

“Girls!” Tara spoke softly and gave them a narrow-eyed glare. “Pay attention. Willow has important information for us.”

“Sorry, Tara.” Faith wasn’t very remorseful. She winked at Cat before turning back to the images on the wall.

Cat bit back a chuckle and dipped her head. “Sorry, Ma’am.” She thought she heard Tara sigh but it was hard to tell over Willow’s, or Red’s (Cat preferred Faith’s name for the other woman), rapid-fire delivery of facts.

“…setting up as the leader of the group. We think he’s Sired several of his top lieutenants,” Willow finished.

Maura’s hand shot up, “Ms. Rosenberg?”

“Yes, Doctor?” Willow somehow made it appear as though she looked directly at Maura and not into the lens of her webcam.

“Even if this Master Phillip recruited or created more demonic followers, how does the First Legion fit in?” Maura asked. “And how does that explain the way the victims were murdered? Why draw attention to vampires with the faux bite marks? Why drain the blood?”

After the previous rush of information, Willow’s silence was telling. She didn’t know. “We aren’t one hundred percent sure.” Moving away from the camera, Willow sorted through books and papers on a nearby table. “Master Phillip is the easiest part of the equation. Obviously, he’s trying to establish a power base in Boston. The First Legion... He’s financing it. Or they’re financing each other. And the financial footprint is global. German banks, Boston investment firms. Not your run of the mill bad guys.”

“Will, do you think Master Phillip is Turning members of the Legion? Is that how they’re connected?” Tara asked.

Why would anyone want to become a vampire? Cat didn’t want to look stupid. She’d ask Faith later.

Willow nodded. “It’s the best explanation we have, and it fits with the purchase of all those blood bars. This is more organized than most. Not even the Master in Sunnydale pulled in this much support from the demon community, and he didn’t bother to recruit humans.”

“The whole setup reminded me of guerilla warfare or terrorist attacks,” Cat felt compelled to add. She closed her eyes and thought back to the Legion meeting. “All the rousing speeches, designed to build a frenzy. All of us from a single _type_ : submissive Red Cuffs. As a group, we don’t have a lot to lose and we’re angry.” It felt weird, almost wrong, to discuss her own emotional issues so openly. She had to focus on the case, though. “Once we were screaming for blood, they broke us into small groups. Cells. And the leaders, the Cohort Commanders, didn’t encourage sharing.”

“Soldiers of the Legion,” Korsak said. He leaned back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach. “Soldiers for what cause?”

Faith and Willow shared a glance through the webcam. “If it’s vamps looking for power, odds are ending the world as we know it is at the top of the list.” The comment was outrageous. Cat noticed Korsak and Frost smile - until they realized that none of the Council members looked amused. “Might be something simpler. Great way to get a free food supply.”

Cat might have believed that if there hadn’t been six murders. “The dead bodies say food probably isn’t the answer.”

“Not necessarily,” Jane disagreed. “There was that guy in your group.” She flipped through a copy of the transcript. “Gary. The one who tried to pick a fight with the Cohort Commander. What if the victims were all in the Legion but failed to complete a task?”

“We can’t connect any of the victims other than Avery Little to any Legion activity.” Frost tilted his head toward his laptop. “We’ve run financials on all the victims; questioned friends, family, and co-workers. A few of them attended social events backed by the Legion. Nothing beyond those events. No phone calls or additional events. No money changing hands.”

The projection screen flickered and changed again. The camera swung to one side before honing in on a whiteboard. It held the same glossy photos as the one Cat had been studying; although the board held no writing. Willow’s voice sounded without her being physically in the viewing area. “I think we have to start with the three people Detective McLearen met at the North End session. They offer our best shot at connecting the dots to the money.” Her arm popped up on the wall and she drew a chart beneath the photos.

In red, there was: What We Know. In blue, Questions. And in green, How Do We Find Answers.

Colored Expo markers. Cat turned her head and found both Tara and Faith watching her, smiling. “I’m not like that,” she muttered. “I’m not OCD about colors or pens.”

Neither seemed convinced. “What do you think, T?”

“If the pens and colors match...” Tara’s eyes twinkled with laughter.

With a scowl, Cat turned her attention back to the projector screen and Willow’s show and tell of their information.

“Well, we know all three are recruiters for the Legion.” Frost must have recreated the chart on his computer. He typed as he talked – and Willow scribbled on her board. “Allison and Dierk connect through money, probably. How and why?”

“And what does Jonathan Stewart have to do with any of it?” Cat asked. “He’s definitely in the middle of it all. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have met him the other night.” Tapping her fingers on her knee, she tried to remember everything. “Were you able to find any of the other Legion members? Maria or Tammy? Gary? How do they fit in, and are _they_ linked to any of the victims?”

She’d talked too fast. Willow and Frost were frantically documenting her questions (which far outstripped anything they knew).

“Marie’s restaurant is used for a lot of the smaller Legion-hosted social events.” Maura turned to Cat. “Invitation-only, from what Jane and I discovered.”

That brought up another line of questions. “Anything more on Allison?” Cat was very careful to avoid the dreaded “cronies” label.

Maura’s eyes narrowed as if she heard the unspoken word. “She’s well connected. A dozen charities, donor to the Mayor’s reelection campaign. Nothing out of place.” Then she smiled wryly. “Except for her tendency to recruit for the latest cult.”

It was the first time any of them had used that particular phrase. It fit…almost. “Cult or terrorist group?” Cat put the question to the entire group.

“A rose by any other name…” Korsak quoted. “They brainwash; they have ex-special forces members; they have money.”

“And they kill.” Jane stood and paced restlessly. “That’s the part we need to focus on. The rest is window dressing. We’re still missing too much information.” Pointing at Willow’s display on the wall, she said, “We’ve overlooked something. Somehow, somewhere we have all the facts. We just missed the key piece of evidence.”

Great. Cat sighed and rubbed her eyes. Faith and Tara had arrived nearly a week ago, and they were in exactly the same place with the investigation. “Another go around with witness statements and financials?” She’d need more than coffee to stay awake for that.

“That’s regular cop stuff.” Faith was clearly not planning to help with anything so mundane again. “Red, anybody gone on a fact-finding mission lately?”

Willow nodded. “Did you miss the part where I mentioned the Boston team finding out about Master Phillip?” Her words were caustic. “Or did you think you could do better?”

Slouching in her chair, Faith turned a cocky smile on the camera lens. “Duh, Red. And you think so, too, or you wouldn’t be talkin’ to us now. Didn’t you say something about all your experience?”

Even over the internet and the projector bulbs, Willow’s blush was evident.

“Time to visit a few vamp hangouts and chat with the locals. Wonder if they’ll remember me after fifteen years?” Faith stood in one smooth motion and stretched.

Cat might have enjoyed the display of tanned skin showing between the hem of Faith’s shirt and the top of her jeans. Instead, she was too busy hearing Faith’s comment echo in her head. Faith had been in Boston fifteen years ago. Cat knew Faith was from Boston. But fifteen years ago? She’d been in Boston and _then left_ fifteen years ago.

Something had happened to Faith fifteen years ago, and whatever it was had to have broken their bond.

“Earth to Cat. You with us, tiger?” Faith eyed Cat with concern.

Cat faked a yawn. “Zoned out during all the boasting.”

Willow’s giggles filled the room, drowning out the rest of the team’s laughter. “She’s got your number, Faith. Be careful or she’ll discover your Slayer mystique is all a front – and then what will you do?”

With a grumble that did little to hide her grin, Faith replied, “Not gonna worry about it. By the time we get back from the bars and sewers tonight, Cat’ll be convinced Slayers are superheroes. And I’ll be wearing the big ‘S’ on my chest.”

She and Tara walked out, leaving Cat staring after them. Sewers? They were hunting vampires in the sewers?

“You don’t hurry up, I’m leavin’ your ass behind, tiger.” Faith’s voice grew fainter with each word.

Giving a regretful glance at her favorite pair of boots, Cat obediently trotted after them.


	20. Chapter 20

“So what exactly are we doing?” Cat whispered to Tara as they followed Faith into a deserted warehouse near the docks. It was dark, even the few security lights were burned out or broken. And it smelled like mildew and rotting garbage. Feeling completely out of her element, Cat unzipped her jacket in defiance of the cold and touched the butt of her gun.

Warm fingers entwined with Cat’s other hand. “We’re the cavalry. Well, I am.” Cat couldn’t _see_ Tara’s smile, but she sensed it. “All you have to do is hang out and enjoy the show. If something gets past Faith, I’ll keep you safe.”

It was hard not to argue. Cat was a cop. Standing back and letting someone else do the protecting... It wasn’t natural. With ill-grace, she let her hand drop from her gun.

“Sweetie, vampires are faster and stronger than humans.” Tara was always so perceptive. She’d easily guessed what Cat was feeling. “You’ll see.”

And Cat did. Faith managed to find a well-hidden door in the gloom. One powerful kick ripped it completely off its hinges, and light spilled from a crowded, smoky bar area. People (Cat wondered if they were all vampires) scrambled for boltholes behind the bar and at the far side of the room. A few made it.

The others weren’t so lucky. Eyes wide, Cat stood just inside the doorway and watched the show. Tara hadn’t prepared her. Faith was magnificent…and absolutely terrifying. She waded into the crowd and clouds of dust rose as she employed the stakes in both hands. Once the number of vampires thinned, Faith stopped the wholesale slaughter. Stuffing the stakes into the holsters strapped to her thighs, Faith grabbed the nearest vampire with one hand - and dangled him off the floor.

“Sorry to bust up the party,” she said with a wide, patently fake smile. “I was a little upset you didn’t invite me and my girls to this shindig. You don’t like me or something?”

No one moved. Cat wasn’t even sure they breathed. If vampires did that. Cat cursed her lack of knowledge about all things vampire and Slayer. Private education wasn’t what it was cracked up to be.

“Maybe you just didn’t remember,” Faith continued in the same syrupy voice. “I bet that’s it. Let me help ya’ out. I’m Faith, a Vampire Slayer.” With a casual toss, she heaved the vampire in her hand several feet across the room where he crashed into two of his brethren and a nearby table. “To make up for being unfriendly, I think you owe me some information.” Stalking across the room, she stopped in front a heavy vampire. “You. What do you know about Master Phillip?”

“I don’t know...” The vampire started to answer and then stopped when Faith backhanded him. His eyes burned with hatred, and Cat shivered and unconsciously stepped back. “Bitch! I’m not telling you anything.”

A stake appeared in his chest before he’d finished speaking. “Who’s next?” Faith peered around the room. “I can do this all night, boys.”

A few of her potential informants made a break for the door. Two turned to dust with a soundless poof. The other...

Tara shifted in front of Cat, mumbled something in a foreign language, and waved her hand. A tiny blue ball zipped across the bar and landed on the vampire’s chest. It exploded on impact, and his screams echoed in Cat’s mind even after he hit the floor as a rain of ash.

“Master Phillip?” Faith repeated.

This time, the assembled vampires were more forthcoming. “He’s a poser. Claims to be a Master,” one of them mumbled sullenly.

Claims to be. Cat didn’t understand the distinction. How did a Master vampire differ from the ones in this bar?

There was no chance to ask for clarification. Faith continued to question the vampires. “Huh. I’m guessin’ you ain’t impressed.”

“He allies with _humans_.” Growls of agreement followed the statement.

“Man’s got no taste,” Faith lamented. “Maybe I’ll pay him a visit and explain the way this all works. What do you say?” Her smile sent shivers racing through Cat, and several vampires edged away from her. “Where can I find not-so-Master Phillip?”

There was a lot of shuffling feet – and no response.

“I thought we’d covered this?” Faith completed an impressive spinning reverse crescent kick, and the vampire in front of her crumpled to the sound of breaking bone. “Where the fuck is he? I’m not gonna lose any sleep if I have to kill all of you.”

There is was. The thing that had been bothering Cat from the start. All the killing. The violence. Until Faith had begun interrogating the bar dwellers, they’d all appeared human. How did Faith know they were vampires? Had that been how she’d accidentally killed the man she’d mentioned?

Cat’s instincts were to protect; Slayers were supposed to do that, too. It was clear that the definitions of how to do that differed greatly. Laying a hand on even the most violent suspect would cost Cat her badge and her freedom. Faith was waging open war and a whole lot of torture to get what she wanted. And no one, not even Tara, objected.

Superman. Now Faith’s analogy began to make sense. The people (vampires, in some cases) didn’t live by the same codes as Cat. They were superheroes and supervillains. No wonder Faith was afraid. She’d already made one mistake. And the risk of another… It had to be in the back of her mind every day, every time she played out a scene similar to this one.

Shelving her thoughts for later, Cat listened as Faith’s new best friend talked about Master Phillip and a bar in Beacon Hill. The First Legion bar. It was their only concrete connection between the vampires and the Legion.

“Phillip using the humans for a food supply? Dangle the hope of being Turned to keep the blood flowing straight to his door?” Faith pressed for more details. She was good at getting information, and not just because of her tactics. Cat had worked with detectives with far less grasp on what was important and what questions to ask.

Even the chatty vampire stayed silent.

Faith took it in stride. “Guess I’m expecting too much. No way would you know everything unless you and Phillip were tight.” She shrugged and stepped toward Tara and Cat before pausing. “Just in case you _are_ a friend, though…” Her stakes were back. In seconds, the room was echoingly empty.

“Not a bad start, sweetie.” Tara left Cat and walked to Faith. Tilting her head, she examined Faith closely. “Where to next?”

Cat had definitely missed something in the simple exchange. There had been nothing in Tara’s tone or manner, but Faith flushed and her eyes grew heavy-lidded. They’d probably used their link to communicate, she thought enviously.

“Might have better luck if we hit a few more bars and vamp hangouts,” Faith murmured huskily. “This was just a start. I really want to know more about that Beacon Hill spot. This is too organized to be something as stupid as a free meal for Phillip and his guys. What do you think, T?” Her head rose until she met Cat’s eyes. “Cat?”

The inclusion surprised Cat. This was not her area of expertise. She returned Faith’s stare blankly.

“We got enough to take back to Jane? Or do we need to push for more?” Faith clarified.

Why did Cat always feel like a rookie fresh out of the Academy when Faith was around? Clearing her throat and standing parade-ground straight, she thought for a moment. “More, if you think we can find it. We know a little more than we did before: there _is_ a tie between Phillip and the Legion through the Beacon Hill bar. What, though? Stewart and his fellow founders are funneling way too much money and manpower to account for the chance to rub elbows with Phillip’s crew.”

“Then we hit the next hangout.” Faith didn’t even wait for Tara’s approval. She strode back toward the car.

***

They hit two more bars. Cat lost count of the vampires who died (re-died?) at Faith’s hands. Watching the carnage put her on edge. She couldn’t reconcile _this_ Faith with the woman from last night. The tender care and soft touches. Or the woman who had shared a glimpse into her painful past. How did Faith do this, night after night, and stay sane and in control? No wonder Faith was worried. Cat was worried for her.

Part of Cat, the part that still yearned to reopen their bond, wanted to throw herself in front of Faith. Wanted to keep her safe and take her far away from the fighting and the violence, the chance of another accidental death.

The more objective cop in her, though, watched with awe and appreciation. Faith was brutal and direct. She got results. There were no laws handcuffing her actions. No high-priced lawyers finding loopholes. Vampires were evil, killing machines, and Faith killed them to keep Cat, Tara, and the city of Boston safe. There would be no chance for recidivism.

Pulling away from her observations, Cat waited until Faith finished “convincing” the latest group of vampire informants to talk with them. Then she walked around Tara with as much confidence as she could muster and faced the vampire Faith held. “We know all about Master Phillip,” she lied. This was just like any other interrogation, Cat reminded herself. It didn’t matter that the perp was a vampire with forehead ridges, yellow eyes, and big nasty teeth. “We know he’s using the First Legion and the bar in Beacon Hill as a food supply.” Cat couldn’t imagine anyone willing becoming vampire chow. “What is he giving the Legion in return?”

The vampire snarled, and Cat barely managed to stand her ground.

Then, because she was tired of being afraid, she lashed out. Putting all her body weight (and not a little martial arts training) into the blow, she backhanded the vampire in Faith’s grip. “Want to try that again?” God, what was she doing? She’d just _hit_ this helpless guy. Only he wasn’t helpless. He lunged toward Cat so fast she would have been dead instantly if Faith hadn’t held onto him. “Oops. Nice try. Better luck next time.” Cat didn’t know where the taunt came from, not when her knees were shaking so much that it was hard to stay standing. “How about answering the question?”

Faith decided to encourage his cooperation. She slammed him face first into a nearby table.

Bleeding and still clearly very unhappy, he snarled, “Humans are worthless. Phillip is no master.”

“Yeah, we got that,” Faith said. “But I’m thinking these humans are getting something. What is it? What is Phillip giving them?”

“Their leader wants to be one of us.” The vampire’s smile was all teeth and aggression. It was a truly frightening visage until Faith’s stake appeared in his chest and he disappeared.

Cat frowned. “What if I had more questions?”

It earned her an electric smile from Faith as she cleared the room of the remaining vampires. “Think we got it all, tiger. Besides, if he’d blown you off again, I might have had to pull you back. You got an anger management problem. You see anyone about it? That kinda thing’ll cause problems,” she said with mock solemnity.

“I’ll cope,” Cat answered wryly. The whole thing had been therapeutic. She’d have to go vampire hunting with Faith more often.

“You’d better. I don’t know if I can manage two of you at the same time.” Cat had forgotten about Tara until she joined the conversation. Her right eyebrow had drifted upward as she regarded them, daring Cat and Faith to step out of line or lose control.

At that moment, Cat realized she had no desire to push Tara. Scary conversations and blue magical spheres were clear in her memory. She had no doubt Tara had even more skills as a Dominant. Cat admitted the horrible truth to herself: she was a coward.

Faith was made of sterner stuff. She sauntered up to Tara until she was in Tara’s personal space. “That’s what they make whips and chains for, T. And I know you know how to use them. Want to give it a try? Me and tiger all strung up for you?” Her voice was husky and rough, and Cat thought the air in the room would begin to spark.

She drifted forward, drawn by Faith’s desire, by a need to _serve_ so strong she couldn’t resist.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” a voice said from behind them. “Before you start with the chains and things... The Council wants an update on your activities tonight.”

“The Council can fuck itself.” Faith was not happy with the speaker, a young kid in her teens. She glowered and took a threatening step in that direction.

With that strange ability to be where no one expected, Tara cut her off. Pressed into Faith, Tara appeared to be rooted in the concrete floor. “Not one more step, Slayer.” Her voice was so soft and yet so powerful. Cat shivered, and Faith came to an abrupt halt in response. “Have you forgotten all the rules, Faith? Do you need a reminder of who you belong to?”

Faith’s head bowed and she dropped to her knees. “Yes, Tara.”

Without looking away from Faith, Tara addressed the rest of the room. “Please inform the Council that they will have their report in the morning and not a minute sooner.”

The younger girl and her two companions didn’t argue, even though two of them wore Dominant markers.

“Cat, my apologies. Faith and I need to have a discussion. Will you please allow...” she paused and waited.

The young girl, a Slayer Cat figured, murmured, “Sam.”

“Please allow Sam and her team to escort you back to the Council headquarters. Faith and I will meet you there later.” Her words brooked no disagreement, and Cat moved quickly toward the three young women at the back of the room. “Sam, Cat’s safety is now your responsibility. I shouldn’t see even a single scratch on her when I arrive at the Council building.”

Sam might wear her leather band on the left, but she still answered, “Yes, ma’am.”

They exited quickly and quietly. “Son of a bitch! Your Domme’s scary.” One of Sam’s companions gave Cat a commiserating look. She, too, wore a Dominant’s marker. “Is she like that all the time? Or just when her Slayer’s wound up after the kill?”


	21. Chapter 21

Cat was still too caught up in what had happened in the bar to understand the question. Her eyes bounced between the group of young Slayers and the closed panel leading back to the warehouse barroom. What was going on in there? Faith had pushed Tara farther than Cat had seen before, and Tara... Cat flushed, remembering the cool, controlled sound of her voice as she’d handed out orders.

“Leave her alone, Janice,” Sam said. She watched Cat closely. “We just ripped her right out of a scene; give her a minute to find her footing.” She moved next to Cat but was careful not to touch her.

Sam’s comment was correct. Cat _did_ need a minute. Not to recover, though. She spun and headed back for the bar. At least, that was her plan. She hadn’t allowed for Sam’s lightening reflexes and muscles of steel. “Let me go,” she said quietly. “I need to go back in there.” It was wrong for her to be here, to not be with Faith. Faith needed her and Tara. She struggled uselessly against Sam’s grip before slumping in defeat.

Maintaining her hold, Sam told Janice, “You and Emily finish the patrol. Cat and I’ll get a cab back to the Council HQ.”

The anger management problem Faith had noticed in Cat threatened to erupt. Only this time, there were no vampires for Cat to use as therapy. Her hands curled into fits so tight her fingers ached.

Sam’s fingers flexed around Cat’s arms. “Lock it down. Now.”

Sam was no Tara. Cat felt no need to obey the softly delivered warning. However, the fact that she had to even _say_ the words brought Cat back from the edge. “I’m good,” she lied. Her emotions still swirled wildly, and Cat wanted to rush back to the bar (and Tara and Faith) more than anything. “Sorry.”

Visibly on guard, Sam let go and stepped away. “No problem. Ignoring a Slayer in post-battle frenzy isn’t easy.” She waited a moment. When Cat didn’t immediately go berserk, Sam began walking away from the warehouse. “I’ll have our doc check you out back at Slayer Central. I told your Domme you’d be pure as the driven snow when she came for you in the morning.” Her grin was infectious. “I want to know if there are any of my finger marks on your arms and if I should start running now.”

“Tara’s used to me. She’d know who to blame.” Cat grimaced comically. “You should have seen her when I didn’t report in from an undercover assignment on time.”

Sam’s peal of laughter rang out. “No, thanks. I watched her quietly and politely shred one of the Watchers when she and Faith first hit Boston. Wow. We get tons of Alpha Dominants. It comes with the whole Slayer gig. Tara could flatten any one of them and smile the whole time. You’re either brave or crazy to wear her collar.”

For an instant, Cat’s neck warmed as if Tara had locked the delicate collar on her neck again. Then the warmth disappeared, and Cat shivered convulsively. “About that...”

“Crazy?” Sam asked. “It’s a common trait for anyone bonded to Slayer or witch.”

“No.” Then Cat chuckled. “Well, probably. In fact, my parents are convinced yes.” And her behavior lately only seemed to support that idea. “But I was referring to wearing Tara’s collar. I don’t. Wear it.” She sounded like an idiot. With a sigh, she tried one more time. “Tara’s not my Domme. I don’t have one. I’m a cop with the taskforce. Faith asked me to tag along tonight.”

Poor Sam. Her mouth dropped open comically. “Not your Domme,” she repeated.

Rather than adding to the hilarity and echoing her, Cat held up her right hand. It was dark, but Sam wouldn’t need her enhanced Slayer sight to recognize the red leather for anything other than the truth.

“Sorry. Um…I…” The younger girl floundered. All of her self-possession drained away.

Cat took pity on her. “Don’t worry about it. I would have thought the same thing, considering what you walked in on.” With a little distance from the scene in question, Cat understood where Sam had gotten the impression she and Faith and Tara were a triad. “Guess that means you don’t have to hold my hand and baby-sit.”

That earned her a raised eyebrow. Dominants must learn the move in their cradles.

“Oh, put that away.” Cat rolled her eyes. “I get it. Tara scares the crap out of you so I get a sitter for the night.”

“Tara or Faith. Take your pick.” Sam grinned and took Cat’s hand, deliberately linking their fingers. “I’ll keep you safe from the fangy wonders, and you’ll tell Tara not to turn me into a frog.” She swung their hands back and forth as they walked. “Oh, and Faith won’t beat me to a moaning pile of pulp.”

Sam was priceless. Laughing, Cat started skipping and said in a grating whine, “I’m huuuungry. And my feet hurt. When are we gonna get home?” If Sam wanted a free pass from Tara and Faith, she was going to have to earn it.

“You really are crazy.” Sam wasn’t upset. In fact, she seemed pleased. “I might turn you loose on a couple of new kids. They showed up last week, convinced of their immortality and innate superiority. They wouldn’t know what to do with you. The whole Council system is set up to be serious and tied up in red tape. And, hey, did I mention serious? No one’s managed to make a dent in their arrogance - except on the mat. And that’s too much like kicking a puppy to be fun.”

Cat was willing to try. She remembered her training officer her first year in patrol bemoaning the cocky attitudes of recent Academy graduates and how often they ended up dead. If she could help keep even one new Slayer on the job... “I’m your girl.” As soon as she said it, she couldn’t resist adding, “Lady Tara even said so. I’m all yours, Ma’am, until she leashes me in the morning.”

“Don’t push me.” The warning would have been more effective if Sam wasn’t giggling. They staggered down the sidewalk like a pair of drunks, laughing and holding each other up.

When the laughter finally wound down, Cat’s face and sides hurt. “Oh, my God. What was that?”

“That’s the post-Slayage syndrome. The Watchers and doctors on the Council call it Post Battle Epinephrine Curve, or PBEC.” Although Sam’s voice wavered with the last dregs of merriment, her eyes were sober. “It’s a common problem for anyone on the front lines. Slayers have increased physical skills and stamina. Using it in battle causes an adrenaline rush. If you’re part of the battle like you were tonight - or you’re bonded with a Slayer, it’s easy to get swept along for the ride.”

“In other words, I can blame Faith for making you drag me away from the bar and for the schoolgirl giggles.” Cat shook her head. “If she’d let me die of boredom, buried in piles of paperwork, I wouldn’t have been ready to try beating you to a pulp. Or the vampire I questioned.” And she might not have gotten primed enough to throw herself at Tara when she’d gotten so Dominant. Cat considered that thought a second time and discarded it. Tara’s brand of Dominance would always affect her.

Stopping at an intersection, Sam scanned the street. “The official explanation makes us sound like animals. Increased aggression, sex drive, and appetite. Possible uncontrollable rage. Depression.” A quicksilver smile lightened the mood. “The Slayer explanation - and I’ll let you guess who came up with it - is that we’re just hungry and horny after patrol.”

Another bout of laughter threatened. Cat cleared her throat and counted to ten until the giggles subsided. “If you hadn’t set it up like that...” There was only one possible answer. She could easily imagine Faith’s smirk as she attempted to shock some Council stuffed shirt. “Willow, right?” she said with a straight face.

“Exactly,” Sam said dryly. “Because Willow is all about kidding and non-scientific comments.”

She was. Or, she could be. Cat had seen her in action with Faith. She didn’t say mention that, however. Sam was a younger Slayer. Willow probably fostered her reputation as an all-knowing science nerd. Turning the conversation in a slightly different direction, she commented, “I bet that makes for interesting bonds. Faith said something about multiple-person pairings.” In case she was pushing Sam’s boundaries, she quickly added, “And we don’t have to talk about it. I can ask Faith or Tara.”

“I don’t mind.” Sam shot her a curious look. “It’s not a secret”

“But...” It was clear there was something more.

“I guess I’m surprised you don’t already know.” Sam blew on her hands. “Where are all the cabs? It’s a long hike back home. When you were all ‘grrr’ earlier, I thought you’d just never seen PBEC up close and personal. It sounds like you’d never even heard of it, though. How did you miss the Basic Slayer classes in school?”

Great question. Cat answered with part of the truth. She wasn’t sharing her life story with this kid, no matter how much Cat liked her. “Private tutors. I guess they decided to skip that part of the curriculum.”

“Sucks to be you. Well, maybe not. You probably didn’t have to worry about getting harassed because you preferred sports to flirting with the pretty subs. Or sit in a classroom the size of a closet with thirty other kids.” Sam didn’t ask Cat about her experience, thankfully. ”We’re a pretty messed up bunch. All the super powers are great, but they come with a price.”

“Faith mentioned some of that.” Cat very carefully skirted the details of Faith’s life. “Something about getting Called and how it hits you out of the blue.” They turned onto Summer Street. Hopefully, there would be at least one cab in front of the Convention Center. Or a bus. Someplace warm where Cat could sit down.

For the first time, Sam didn’t seem comfortable with the conversation. “That doesn’t happen most of the time, Cat.”

“What do you mean?” Sam’s reaction made Cat uneasy. Had Faith experienced something out of the ordinary? And why hadn’t she mentioned it when she and Cat had been talking?

“Being a Slayer isn’t an accident. We’re created, I guess you could say.” Sam grimaced. “This is so not my strong suit. When we get to the Council HQ, you might want to arrange a meeting with one of the Watchers for all the details. Most of the time, the Council knows who will be Slayers. They’re called Potentials. They get a Watcher assigned. Like your private tutor - but after school.” From Sam’s aggrieved tone, it was clear after school studying was a sore subject. “We learn about Slayer history and all kinds of fighting techniques.

“You don’t ever really expect to get Called. I mean, it happens when one of the active Slayers dies. Not good news. But it doesn’t hurt or freak you out. Unless you managed to slip through the Council’s identification program. Then you’d _really_ be surprised,” Sam clarified.

Cat wanted more information on that. Only not from Sam. “That makes sense,” she jumped in. She’d see if Faith would be willing to talk some more. This was definitely on the private end of the scale. “So you get Called. Now you’re a Slayer. What’s next?”

“Oh, not much,” Sam mocked. “Just your usual, every day thing. Fight demons and vampires. Save the world. Get banged up a lot. Hopefully not get killed before you’re legally old enough to drink.” She spun around and glared at the street. “I’ve never _not_ seen a cab out here. It’s not very late!” With a scowl, she dug through her pocket before triumphantly holding up a cell phone. “Someone can come pick us up. I might even get a pat on the head from my Watcher for saving us money on cab fare.” She dialed a number from her contact list, remaining stationary while waiting for the contact to answer.

“Damn it. Voicemail.” Sam hunted for another number.

“I could call Dispatch and get a radio car,” Cat offered. And then have it deliver her home instead of the Council building. She was getting tired, and she really didn’t need a babysitter.

Sam disagreed. “We had this conversation. No flaming fireballs or really pissed off Senior Slayer in Sam’s future.” As Sam scrolled to her next possible ride, she froze. Her eyes darted up and down the street.

“What’s wrong?” The hairs on the back of Cat’s neck rose in response to Sam’s actions. She turned in a slow circle, looking for whatever had Sam on edge.  There was nothing and no one on the street. “I’m calling in.”

“Don’t bother.” Sam shoved the phone into her pocket and drew a stake and a dagger from inside her coat. “Follow me and stay close.” She took off in a ground-devouring lope.

Cat hurried after her. They dashed between two businesses across A Street, and Cat spotted three men surrounding a pair of women. There was enough illumination from the sole street light to see the forehead ridges denoting the men as vampires. As if to confirm Cat’s thoughts, one of the women screamed. Despite running at top speed, Cat was left behind as Sam zipped down the alley.

From the moment Sam grabbed the first vampire, Cat knew there was a problem. The vampire was well trained. _Professionally_ trained. He moved like a trained killer.

Sam didn’t stand a chance. Cat dialed 9-1-1. “Badge 937. Officer and Slayer need assistance in an alley near Summer and A.” With no regard for the phone, she dropped it on the ground and drew her weapon. It wouldn’t kill Sam’s attackers; it _might_ give her a fighting chance.

She managed to fire two rounds before something sharp and burning jabbed into her the muscle at the back of her neck. “Sam!” Cat tried to turn, tried to swing her gun around. Hands held her still and yanked a hood over her head. The night went completely black, first from the hood then from whatever had been in the needle.


	22. Chapter 22

Voices roused Cat. She opened her eyes and blinked dazedly. The world swam with a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. Her stomach lurched. Oh, God. And her head...

"What were you thinking?” The voice was female and very angry.   
  
Cat tried to move and failed. Turning her head shut the weird colors off as the world went black once more.   
  
The conversation was still going on when Cat woke up again. Moving with more care, she tested her arms and legs. Wide bands (metal from the unforgiving feel) held her motionless to a cold, hard surface. Her head still pounded.   
  
“...Slayer. And a cop. We’ll have every uniform and...” This one was male. His voice rose and fell like a radio slightly out of tune.   
  
It hurt to think. Cat bit her lip against the pain and focused. Cop. That was her. Good. She could do this. Cat was a cop and that scared the people who had drugged her. The fuzzy feeling, the headache. Cat was familiar with it.  
  
Her focus wavered.  
  
 _“You know that your bondmate is never coming back.” The doctor, Cat couldn’t remember his name, smiled. He had nice teeth. Straight and shiny. His eyes didn’t smile, though. “You have to accept that, Cat. Accept it and move on.”_  
  
“Accept it and move on,” Cat echoed. Easy peasy. Or, it would be if someone would pull the cotton out of her brain. It was so hard to think.  
  
The doctor leaned forward and patted Cat’s knee. “That’s right, Cat. I’m glad you’re being so reasonable.”  
  
“Damn it. Who authorized this?” The woman was back. Cat really wanted her to stop shouting. The words stabbed into her head. “Do you have any idea what’s going to happen? You took a Slayer! A baby Slayer at that. The Council will tear Boston apart to find her.”  
  
There was a deeper rumble, too low for Cat to follow.   
  
Luckily, her friendly shrieker was there to help out. “You’re an idiot!” If Cat could have summoned the energy, she would have laughed at the blunt assessment of the other voice. “We can’t kill them like the others. If we do, the trail will lead right back to the Legion! You’ll ruin everything!”  
  
That would be terrible. A sudden, nearly uncontrollable need to giggle hit Cat. She bit her tongue and tensed every muscle against the urge. Not now. God, not now! While she struggled not to laugh, the woman muttered something too softly for Cat to hear. A door closed nearby.

“Damn it. I told you this was a bad idea,” a male voice muttered.

Cat slid her eyes up enough to peer through slits in her lashes. One woman and two men in a group. Three more men. No, not men. Vampires. They had fangs, Cat thought. And there was another body slumped on a metal table across the room.  
  
Sam. Cat jerked reflexively.   
  
Now the bad guys knew she was awake. One of the vampires was at her side immediately. His eyes were soulless. “The Master will want to know this has been cleaned up. Let me take care of her now.” He smiled and his fangs appeared.   
  
“Get the fuck away from me, you freak,” Cat snapped. She had to stay in control. She couldn’t panic. Thanks to the drugs, Cat didn’t have a clue why she was here or what the people in the room knew about her real identity. For now, she’d stick with her alter-ego. “Is this some kind of lame initiation ritual? Where am I, and who the Hell are you?” Yanking at the bands on her arms and legs, she fought to break free.  
  
The vampire snarled and moved even closer. She could smell his breath, ripe with the coppery stench of blood.   
  
Cat couldn’t move away so she did the only thing possible. She spit right in his face. “Ever heard of personal space? I like mine.” She never saw the blow coming. Her head snapped to the side, banging painfully into the table. The room spun and Cat vomited helplessly. Each gasping heave turned the edges of her vision gray.   
  
The human woman sauntered over. Regarding Cat with a grimace, she said to the vampire, “She isn’t yours yet.”  
  
He took a step back but didn’t give up.   
  
“Let me up. I’m one of you, in case you missed the memo. Alina recruited me,” Cat choked out. Dry heaves made talking (and breathing) difficult. “Brad’s my Cohort Leader, and I’m happy to report I completed my first mission.” She tried to smile and wink flirtatiously. “And I’m not in the market for a Dominant. Besides, the whole medical fetish... It doesn’t get my motor running.”  
  
The woman stared at Cat in confusion. Good. Cat’s acting had her questioning things. “You were with a Slayer.”   
  
Oh, goody. Cat was smart enough (and trying too hard to breathe) not to say that out loud.   
  
“Did you think we wouldn’t find out?” This question seemed to be directed at Cat. She managed to glance up and found the woman staring at her.   
  
“Find out what?” Cat choked out. “That you’re crazy? That you’re an idiot? That you have your own special dungeon? You’re going to have to give me a little more.” Bitch, she finished mentally. There was a moment while the woman merely glared at Cat that she thought she might have pushed too hard. Maintaining eye contact was the hardest thing Cat had ever done.   
  
While the woman waffled, the vampire waiting to eat Cat snarled. “She helped a Slayer clear out the bars. She killed some of the Master’s soldiers. Let me kill her!”  
  
“Look, blood breath,” Cat’s mind raced. How could she explain being with Faith? The room seemed to grow even colder and blood began to trickle down her arms from scrapes caused by her struggle against the metal cuffs. “Of course I was there. I found a letter under my door. My assignment from Brad.”  
  
Cat doled out information slowly. Some long ago advice reminded her to keep her lies simple and straightforward. And she needed to burn as much time as possible, too. Surely a radio car or team of Slayers had responded to her emergency call. Her cell phone was in that alley. Someone would be looking for her and Sam. If she could keep them both alive long enough, there was a slim chance the cavalry would arrive.  
  
The cavalry. Cat’s mind conjured visions of Faith and Tara bursting through the door... Oh, yeah. Perfect.   
  
“Brad wouldn’t tell you to go to a vampire bar and kill them.” The woman had no doubts about that, and Cat bit off a curse.   
  
“Duh!” Cat wasn’t a hundred percent sure of all the reasons for the Legion-Vamp alliance. However, she didn’t have to be a genius to know killing a bunch of vampires would never be on the Legion’s To Do List. “Your sources must have left off the part where I only roughed up one vamp. I didn’t kill anything. That was all Faith. Faith the Vampire Slayer. What was I supposed to do? Throw myself in front of her stake and say, ‘Killing vampires is wrong. They’re not really evil, only misunderstood.’ If she didn’t toss me back in the loony bin, I’d be up on charges or in front of a disciplinary committee for interfering in Council business.”  
  
Not even the vampire had a smart remark for that.  
  
Risking a quick glance at Sam, Cat noted the younger girl still appeared unconscious. Good. That was good. Cat needed a few more minutes to convince their captors that she was on their side  - and she didn’t want Sam to hear what she had to say. There was only a slim chance this would work, and Cat was stacking the deck. “You want to know why I was with Faith? Brad’s order was to tell Faith she was my Domme.”  
  
By itself, the comment meant nothing. The woman’s lip curled, and Cat’s sense of urgency shifted into overdrive.  
  
Her words picked up speed. Funneling her fear into an approximation of righteous anger, Cat snapped, “Since this whole setup screams torture or worse, I guess I have to share my private life with the world. Faith, the Slayer I was with in the bar, is my Domme. The one who fucking abandoned me years ago. She has no clue how she ruined my life. Brad knows all about it. He and Alina told me that I should tell her. So I did.”  
  
Cat was afraid to hesitate or look away. She had a rapt audience. “And she still didn’t remember. Can you believe that?” She invited participation and noticed the human men and woman shake their heads in silent response. “What a bitch. I told her I was through, that she didn’t deserve me anyway. Then my watch commander had a brainstorm. Out of the blue he decides I need to broaden my horizons and sends me out with a visiting Council team. Faith and her bondmate, pub crawling in crappy, rundown warehouses.”  
  
“That wasn’t what we heard.” The woman was definitely wavering. She glanced back and forth between her two male companions. “That’s why...”   
  
“Jesus. You grabbed me on your own.” Cat didn’t have to fake her amazement. “Brad’s going to kill all of you.”   
  
The jibe hit home. Anyone who could turn pale, did. And shuffle and clear their throats.   
  
“Get me off this fucking table. I want to talk to Brad. Actually, I want you to call Brad, Alina, _and_ Jonathan.” Cat dropped the names with poorly disguised glee. If she really had been a Legion member, her connections, tenuous and new though they were, would cause no end of trouble for the crew in the room.

All three humans scrambled to obey Cat. For the moment, her ruse was working. The metal cuffs clicked open and Cat swung her legs over the edge and stood up.

It was a mistake.

Her stomach revolted again, and Cat doubled over. Sweat burned her eyes and chilled her skin as she emptied what little remained in her stomach onto the floor. A tendril of spite reared its head when speckles of vomit dotted the shoes of the woman and one of the men who’d kidnapped Cat and Sam.

Hands on her knees for leverage, Cat straightened. The room tried to close in. Black dots danced crazily in front of her eyes. Pass out? Or maybe stay alive? No thought went in to Cat’s decision. Despite her shaky condition, Cat lashed out immediately. She backhanded the woman, who staggered and nearly fell. “I should kill you myself,” she announced. “But we’ve got to clean up your mess first.” Cat had to save Sam. The young girl was ghostly pale and still on the steel table. “How long will she be out?” Cat asked.

“We tripled the dose we gave you,” one of the men offered. He didn’t trust Cat, not from the way he watched her. Luckily, he seemed too scared to object to her sudden leadership.

“In other words, you don’t know,” Cat summed up. The situation kept getting worse and worse. Wanting to close her eyes and pretend this was a nightmare, Cat stayed focused. She had to get Sam to safety. “You,” she said to one of the vampires. “Grab the kid. I doubt Jonathan’s ready to start a war with the Council. We’ll dump her out in Dorchester, minus all her cash and ID. If we’re lucky, she won’t remember anything after trying save the stupid townies in that alley. No one will connect a mugging with the Legion.”

The vampire didn’t move. Damn it! Cat didn’t have any other ideas. Mimicking a Dominant’s surety of a submissive’s obedience, she walked across the room. Her coat, holster, and gun lay on an open shelving unit. With hands that trembled more than she wanted, Cat released the magazine, set the slide lock, and racked the slide. The chambered round popped from the ejection port, and she caught it smoothly. Cat completed a quick visual inspection. No damage to the weapon. Three rounds missing from the 15-round magazine. Cat added the round she’d ejected to the magazine and snapped it home. All rounds accounted for, including the two shots she’d fired in the alley. The slide lock released with a click.

Feeling unaccountably better, Cat donned her harness, secured her weapon, and slipped into her coat. The heavy leather combated the lingering chill of fear. “Who’s driving?” she asked the motionless crew. “We’re running out of time.”

“We don’t follow your orders.” Cat’s favorite vampire sneered at her.

“Fine. Kill the kid. I don’t care if the Council turns you and every vampire in the city into dust piles.” Hiding her growing panic, she turned to the woman. “Give me your phone. Since you won’t call in your mistake, I will.”

Reluctance in every movement, the woman pulled a smart phone from a belt-clip and held it out to Cat.

Cat took it and thumbed the screen. Her first plan had ended in failure. She had just one more shot. Keeping her eyes locked on the woman, she dialed Jane’s number quickly.

“Alina, it’s Cat. From Brad’s cohort,” she announced as soon as the call went through.

A quickly indrawn breath then, Jane asked, “Cat? What’s going on?”

“Some of the Legion’s dumbest picked me and a Slayer up last night.” She waited, pretending Alina was asking questions. “Drugged us. The kid’s still out. I don’t know for how much longer, though. The Moron Cohort just guessed at the dosage.” Another pause. “I don’t know. They thought I was a friend of the Council. They’re holding us…” Pausing, Cat pulled away from the phone. “Where the Hell are we? Beacon Hill? Or another private party site?” she asked her kidnappers.

“We’re…” The woman broke off when one of her companions elbowed her in the ribs.

He wasn’t happy with Cat. “If that’s really Alina, she’ll _know_ where we are.”

Perfect. Just fucking perfect. “Did you hear that?” Cat murmured into the phone. “When this is all over, you owe me for this shit. Brad better let me take care of these idiots before sending me out on any more missions.”

There was no response to her comment. Jane waited for Cat to feed her as much information as possible. “Fine. I’ll leave them for you,” she said with ill grace. “Don’t take too long to get here,” she added with absolute honesty. Acting wasn’t Cat’s forte. One wrong word or move and she’d be right back on that table with no hope left. “I don’t know if I can restrain myself much longer.”

She hung up and tossed the phone back to the woman. “Alina’s on her way. We hang tight until then.” Wanting to be close to Sam in case she woke up, Cat pulled herself into a sitting position on the table next to Sam’s right hand.


	23. Chapter 23

“What did Alina say?” The woman wanted to know.

Cat didn’t answer right away. Instead, she casually examined the room. It wasn’t a playroom. There were no shackles on the walls. No chains hanging from the ceiling. There were only the two metal tables. Shifting so that her left knee was propped against Sam’s side, Cat shrugged. “Not much. She wasn’t happy.” With a lifted eyebrow, she asked, “Did you think she would be?”

She received a scowl in response. “How were we supposed to know you weren’t working with the Slayer?”

“I guess you couldn’t.” Cat needed to keep the woman talking. Using her knee as camouflage, she searched for a way to unlock the band around Sam’s arm. “I was there. Vampires died. I suppose I might have thought the same thing.” She noticed the woman relax. “Did you call in before coming after me?” Cat didn’t care if the woman and her companions had followed protocol before abducting her. She simply needed to know if anyone else knew they were here.

“Of course!” One of the men spoke up. “We wouldn’t do anything without approval. Our sponsor was here earlier.”

The other female voice. Cat couldn’t believe she’d forgotten the loud, angry voice. From that conversation, Cat didn’t believe the man’s assertion that the other woman had approved. His sponsor had been pissed about their decision. She filed that away in case she could use it as leverage later.   
  
As she sat on the table, desperate for a way to escape, Cat regretted putting on her jacket. It was suddenly stifling in the room. Her sweat-slick fingers slipped and slid over the metal cuff. She couldn’t risk _looking_ at the restraint. “Maybe she and Alina can figure out what to do with the kid here. While we wait, you mind finally telling me who you are?”

“Garrett.” He’d been quiet until now. Tall, reed-thin, John Lennon glasses. He certainly couldn’t be the brawn in the operation.

Cat nodded at him then turned her attention to the other human man. “You?” She wasn’t surprised by his defiant glare. He’d been less than cooperative from the beginning of her charade.

When he refused to answer, however, Cat decided she’d had enough. “Listen, asshole. I’ve had enough of your crap. I finally manage to get some tiny speck of my life in order; I’m planning to get rid of the bitch who collared the woman I used to love – and you and your crew interfere. I don’t care if you don’t like me or if you’d rather strap me down and kill me. I asked you a fucking question. Answer me before I beat the information out of you.”

The threat was complete bluster. However, it earned Cat a sullen, “Franklin,” from the other man.

“Is it some weird Legion thing to use formal names?” Cat asked the question she’d had at the advanced session. “Because I haven’t been Catherine for a long time, and I’ve got no plans to give it a second try.” She prayed her comment hid the click of the cuff around Sam’s arm releasing. Now what? How could she unlock the rest of the cuffs?

Garret chuckled. “If you’ve got Alina answering your calls, it won’t matter.”

Cat slid off the table and removed her jacket. It helped with the heat, and it just might provide cover for Sam to help with the cuffs if she woke up. “I can pick one, huh?” Tossing the jacket over Sam’s upper torso, she wandered to the end of the table and leaned against it. Her hands immediately went to the cuff on Sam’s right ankle. “Something with a historical angle…” The cuff opened. Cat had a future in lock picking. “What about you?” She turned to the woman as the other leg cuff released.

“Linda.” The woman obligingly waved at the two vampires. “Seamus and Jack.”  
  
It wasn’t clear which of the vampires was which. Cat didn’t really care. The humans she could arrest. Eventually. Once Jane and the taskforce arrived. The vampires needed to be dead. Two less demons for Sam and the Boston Slayers to fight. “I’d like to say it was nice to meet you...”   
  
Cat’s constant chatter had broken the ice enough for Linda and Garrett to smile briefly.   
  
Using that connection, Cat pressed for information. “So what do you do when you aren’t tracking practicing your kidnapping skills? You all know I’m a Vice cop. I spend my nights in my best hooker-wear, arresting fat businessmen looking for a good time.” It was tough not to reach her gun when Franklin’s eyes slid over her body, pausing at her chest.   
  
“I work here,” Garrett volunteered. “I’m a lab tech.”   
  
“You like it?” Cat prodded for more details carefully. Lab tech. Metal tables. This wasn’t the medical examiner’s office. A morgue? At which hospital? Or... she scanned the room again. The equipment was new and up to date. Private lab?

  
Before Garrett could offer more, footsteps sounded outside the door. Cat tensed. The door swung open and the man who’d hosted the advanced session Cat had attended burst into the room. Two women followed him. One Cat didn’t recognize. The other...  
  
Cat’s gun cleared her holster before Carrie could say a word. “Everybody freeze! Put your hands in the air now!” The shouted command was barely out of her mouth when Cat heard metal tearing and Sam dove past her. She and Seamus (or Jack) collided inches in front of Cat’s outstretched arms.   
  
The fight was fast and brutal. Cat glanced back and forth between the humans standing statue still and the twisting, writhing bodies. The second vampire had joined the fray. Her gun dipped and wavered momentarily as Sam tossed one of her opponents across the room into the wall. Tiles broke and pieces rained to the floor with delicate plinking sounds.   
  
Her inattention allowed Franklin the chance to move. He hurtled the table that had held Sam and headed straight for Cat. Cat didn’t waste time worrying about facing Internal Affairs. She fired two shots into his chest and watched as he dropped to the floor. The shots echoed in through the room and coincided with Linda’s scream and grunts of effort and pain from Sam and the vampires she still fought. Cat ignored the sound effects. Her attention stayed on the people plotting her certain death. “Like I said, freeze and put your hands in the air. Or do you want to end up like Franklin?”   
  
Slowly and grudgingly, hands filled the air.   
  
Cat relaxed slightly. She had a perfect line of sight in case anyone else decided to be a hero. The only remaining concern was the vampires. Glancing to her right, Cat saw Sam pressed against the far wall with her hands locked locked around one of the vampire’s wrists. He held a dagger over her chest and it moved slowly closer to Sam despite her best efforts.   
  
They were so close together. Cat hesitated. If she missed or the bullet went through her target...   
  
The knife hovered against Sam’s T-shirt.  
  
Aiming for the vampire’s back, Cat fired another shot and the vampire staggered. Sam shoved him away. Or, she tried to. Cat watched, transfixed, as the vampire managed to maintain his position despite the bullet wound and Sam’s attempt to move him. The knife moved in a blur that ended with Sam’s pained cry and a fountain of blood. The hilt protruded from the younger girl’s chest as she toppled bonelessly to the floor.   
  
Rage eclipsed Cat’s training. She fired at the vampire again, not caring that she couldn’t kill him. He grinned at her even as a hole appeared on his shirt and blood stained the sleeve of his jacket.   
  
Fine. If she couldn’t take him out of the equation... Cat’s aim swung to the humans in the room. She was going to die. It was a given. Cat pulled the trigger, feeling the familiar recoil. Once. Twice.   
  
The third shot went wide as a vampire tackled Cat to the floor. Hard hands wrenched the gun away and slid it across the floor. Rolling Cat onto her back, he straddled her hips and pinned her hands to the floor on either side of her head. “I don’t care what the Master says. You’re mine now,” the unwounded vampire lisped. This close, Cat noticed the yellowed staining on his fangs and a series of scars tracing along his neck and face.  
  
No matter how hard Cat pulled against his grip, she couldn’t get loose. He was too strong.   
  
His head lowered slowly. He was taunting her, daring her to attempt an escape he knew was impossible. Writhing and twisting didn’t work. Cat bucked her hips. Her feet scrabbled for purchase on the slick tile. Nothing worked, and the vampire closed the final gap. His fangs scraped Cat’s neck, breaking the skin.  
  
“Bastard!” Panting and shaking, Cat suffered the indignity of his tongue licking at the blood leaking from the scrapes on her neck. “You need to work on your technique, pal. Licking? Really? If you want me all hot and bothered, slobbering on me isn’t the best choice.”  
  
He reared back for an instant. “In another minute, you won’t care.”  
  
Cat didn’t have the chance to respond. The vampire stopped playing with her. His head dove for her neck and twin pricks of pain erupted in her neck. “No!” She meant to scream her refusal to die, her refusal to allow the vampire to continue. It came out as a breathy whisper. _No._ Her mental voice was still strong. _Get off me!_ Unfortunately, the vampire couldn’t hear those inner protests.   
  
Each time the vampire swallowed, Cat grew weaker. Colder. And so very tired. Her eyes drifted closed. She was vaguely aware of voices. Of movement in the room. She just couldn’t find the energy to care.

It was over. She’d failed. _I love you, Faith. I’ll always love you_. Cat relaxed into memories of happier times.  
  
 _“When I grow up, I want to be a police officer,” Cat confided to Faith. She was supposed to be doing homework but the lure of television had proved too strong. “I can be just like Lilly Rush.”_  
  
There was a twinge of unease through their link. “Little cat,” Faith started.  
  
Not this time. Voice growing stubborn, Cat interrupted. “Why don’t you want me to be a cop, Faith? I can feel it. You don’t like cops. Why? If I want to be a police officer, will you get mad and punish me?”

_“I’ll love you no matter what you are, little cat...”  
  
_ “Cat! Cat? Come on. Wake up,” a faraway voice pleaded. “Don’t you dare die on me, Detective!”  
  
The voice chased away some of the biting cold surrounding Cat. It demanded Cat’s unquestioning obedience. Her lips twitched. “Sorry, Ma’am,” she tried to say but couldn’t manage to form the words.  
  
 _“Sorry isn’t good enough, Cat. I told you to go straight to the Council HQ. You didn’t listen,” Tara said._ There was no flexibility in her tone. Yet... Cat somehow knew Tara wasn’t angry. In fact, Tara was terrified. Fear and grief swamped Cat for a minute before something shut off the flood of emotions.  
  
That wasn’t right. Tara shouldn’t be afraid. Or sad. Cat wanted to understand except she was so tired.   
  
Immediately, Cat felt warm, strong arms wrap around her. She curled into the body heat and sighed as someone pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “You can’t sleep yet, tiger.” Something damp dropped onto Cat’s face, followed by a shower of more. “You gotta stay here with me and T,” Faith pleaded.   
  
“‘Yes, Faith,” Cat mumbled. “Won’t...sleep.” The words slurred despite Cat’s valiant effort to follow Faith’s request.   
  
_“I’m sorry, tiger. Little cat,” Faith said. “I should have been there for you. None of this would have happened if I’d have been here, if I’d have been with you.”  There was a wealth of self loathing in the words. So much that Cat tried to protest, to reach out - and felt Tara reaching out, too.  
  
Good. Faith might not listen to Cat, but there was no way she could ignore Tara. A hint of amusement brushed Cat. It was followed with enough grim determination that Cat stiffened. The arms and chest under and around her did, too. “That’s enough of that, Slayer. We have other things to focus on right now, don’t we, Cat?”  
  
What? Cat frowned. How had this suddenly become about her?   
  
“You know, tiger,” Faith reminded her. Damn it, why did Faith always do that? Make Cat think and do the right thing?   
  
With a sullen mumble, Cat responded, “Don’t fall asleep.” She expected Faith to take her to task for the less than polite response. Faith had never been happy when she hadn’t shown respect. Instead, though, the arms around her tightened and a wash of approval, love, and protectiveness cradled her. Snuggling into that feeling, Cat floated.  
  
_ Other voices swirled around her. Loud one minute, soft the next after Tara made them be quiet. Cat giggled to herself at that. Everyone obeyed Tara.  
  
 _“You bet they do,” Faith said. She didn’t sound upset anymore; though Cat knew she was still worried. She wiggled closer in an attempt to comfort her._  
  
Something pricked Cat’s arm and she jerked. “Easy, Cat. Don’t move, sweetie.” Tara stroked Cat’s hair with fingers that trembled. “Everything’s going to be fine. Just hang on a little longer.”  
  
“Why?” Cat really wanted to know. “Why are you scared?” Her eyes had lead weights attached, and Cat fought to get them open even a crack. Bright light stabbed at them, and they started to water. Cat had to blink the tears away in order to see Tara.  
  
Tara’s face was streaked with tears and smudges of blood.  
  
“Tara?” What had happened? Cat tried to sit up, but Faith’s arms locked her in place. “Let me go!” She pulled against Faith - and that’s when the pain she’d only dimly noticed flared back to life. Her throat and the bend in her right elbow burned. Her head pounded. And she was still so cold. Not even Faith’s body heat and the scratchy blanket tossed over them helped.   
  
“We have to put her under,” a new voice announced. “It’s risky but we don’t have a choice if she’s going to keep moving around.”

Suddenly, she heard Jane’s angry voice. “Where the Hell do you think you’re taking Cat?”

“You’ve been angry since Faith and I arrived in Boston. To help, I might add, not take over,” an equally exasperated Tara responded. “You want to blame me for this, Detective Rizzoli? Fine! Go ahead. I take full responsibility for dragging Cat along to hunt vampires. I take full responsibility for what’s happened here – and that means I’m also responsible for fixing it.”

“We have an ambulance on the way…” Jane started.

Tara didn’t allow her to finish, though. “Council medical facilities are better equipped to deal with these types of injuries.” Cat loved the cool, clipped way Tara spoke when she was angry. Especially since it wasn’t directed at her.

“Then take your Slayer there. Cat is ours.” For someone who’d left her family behind, Cat was suddenly swimming in people willing to claim her.

Faith never glances away from Cat. In fact, she watched Cat intently as she told Jane quietly, “No, she isn’t.”

There was more. Cat tried to follow it. Tried to fight against Faith, until a soft, fuzzy wall separated her from the world. The wall thickened little by little until everything...faded...away...


	24. Chapter 24

The room wasn’t white yet it still smelled like a hospital, a mix of bleach, fabric softener, and pain. A monitor beeped nearby, and Cat wasn’t surprised to see an IV tube taped to her right arm.

“Hey, welcome back.” Willow materialized next to the Cat’s bed. “I thought you were going to turn into Sleeping Beauty.”

Willow? What was she doing here? Hadn’t Faith said she was overseas? Where was Faith? And Tara? Pushing upright in the narrow bed, Cat scanned the room. “How long have I been out? Where are...”

Willow interrupted. “Where are Faith and Tara? You’re nothing if not consistent. You’ve asked that question every time you’ve woken up for the last twenty-four hours. Give or take a couple of hours. You haven’t been here a whole day yet.”

Cat vowed to ask about Faith and Tara again if Willow didn’t get to the point. She raised an eyebrow and waited. Impatiently.

She obviously lacked a Dominant’s skill at that maneuver. Willow’s grin grew infectiously wider until her tongue peeked between her teeth. “Ooh, things are going to be interesting with you around.” She either didn’t recognize the danger Cat posed or she didn’t care. “Poor Tara. I thought Faith was enough of a challenge. Now she’s got you, too. If she survives, she’ll be a legend.”

“Where. Are. They?” Cat demanded between clenched teeth. If Willow didn’t answer this time, Cat was getting up and hunting for Faith and Tara on her own.

Dropping into a well-cushioned recliner near the foot of the bed, Willow said, “You already know where they are. Stop thinking and start feeling.”  
  
It was like a rerun of Cat’s childhood conversations with Faith. Only Cat hadn’t wanted to kill Faith. Willow was a different story.

“You have to relax, Cat,” Willow murmured. “You’ll never be able to feel them if you don’t relax. I know you’re probably confused and irritated with me. I seem to have that affect on people. But your heart rate’s gone up. Did you know the normal resting heart rate for the average woman is between sixty and eighty beats per minute? Yours is way above that now. Way above. I don’t want to have Tara in here breathing fire at me. She’d probably call Janna and then things would really get crazy. Just calm down, OK?”   
  
If relaxing had been difficult before, it was even harder now as Willow’s voice rose and got faster. To Hell with playing Willow’s game. Reaching for the tape holding the IV needle and tube into her arm, Cat ripped it out. The flash of pain was expected but far from debilitating. However, its removal caused the monitors in the room to beep frantically. Cat ignored the commotion as well as Willow as she babbled something about staying put and tried to push Cat back onto the bed. Cat needed to find Faith and Tara.  
  
Footsteps pounded in the hallway as Cat managed to avoid Willow’s questing hands and stand up. Only slightly unstable, she walked toward the door, thankful that whatever hospital she was in had given her a pair of soft pajama pants and t-shirt.   
  
_“Get back in bed, Cat. Now.”_ Tara’s voice came out of nowhere, and Cat stopped in confusion.   
  
Before she could figure things out, the door wrenched open and two scrub-clad women ran into the room. “The monitor...” one of them announced.   
  
Tara’s mental order was firm. _“Tell them you’re sorry and that you are getting back into bed.”  
  
_ Under normal circumstances, Cat would have immediately followed that command. Today was not a normal day. Tara’s voice was _in her head._ That wasn’t supposed to be possible. Afraid to hope, Cat whispered, “Tara, what’s happening? How can... I mean... I can hear you.” A bubble of joy tried to burst in her chest at the same time a lead weight dragged at her stomach. She couldn’t go through this again. Couldn’t have and then lose a bond. Did she really even _have_ a bond? What had been in that IV?

_“Cat.”_

_“Tiger.”_

The twin warning jump started Cat into action. “I’m sorry,” she apologized to the bewildered hospital staff. She could hear Willow giggling madly behind her. “I’m…going back to bed now.”  A rush of satisfaction and approval from Faith and Tara salved Cat’s bruised pride and soothed her embarrassment at being sent to bed like a child.  Climbing back into bed, she carefully rearranged the blankets so they covered her bare (and now chilled) feet.

“I told you,” Willow said as she resumed her seat in the recliner.

Cat was too busy bouncing around inside her own head, peering at the link. Reaching out to Faith and Tara. They were on their way here. And…oh, they were both so tired. “Did you get any sleep at all?” she asked.

Of course, neither would admit to that. Arrogant Dominants.

_“Time to sleep once we get the rest of those Legion bastards and dust Phillip’s vamps.”_ Faith brimmed with a lethal anger, and Cat was glad the emotion wasn’t directed at her.

She shivered and pulled the blanket all the way up. _“I’m fine, Faith.”_ Something brushed the edges of her awareness. Something Faith and Tara were masking. _“What’s wrong?”_ It had been a long time since she’d worked through a bond – and never a double conduit. Cat didn’t let that stop her. She scanned the link carefully, probing and prodding.

Guilt. Overwhelming guilt and more than a hint of self-loathing.

The emotions froze Cat in place. She’d never considered what the new bond would do to Faith and Tara. They’d been together a long time. Just the two of them.

“Really, Cat? You manage to wiggle through the barrier I put up, and _that’s_ what you come up with? Faith and I don’t want you?” Tara leaned against the doorjamb with arms crossed over her chest.

Faith was less restrained. She strode impatiently across the room, tired and rumpled and totally sexy. “Thought you were smarter than that, little cat.” Her lips covered Cat’s in a heated, possessive kiss.

The same sense of possession filled Cat, shoving all her doubts away. “What...Why…” Cat couldn’t pull her thoughts together when Faith finally stepped back.

“There are a lot of things we need to talk about, Cat.” Tara might be slower than Faith to approach the bed, but her kiss was just as possessive. Cat was nearly too dazed to follow Tara’s next comment. “Unfortunately, we’re going to have to wait. Jane has the taskforce and a horde of officers ready to seize Jonathan Stewart and Allison Parker. And Faith and I are heading out with our own horde of Slayers.” Her eyes were colder than the night she’d taken Cat to task for visiting the bar. “There won’t be a vampire left in Boston when we’re through.”

Instinct had Cat shrink away from Tara’s expression, and then her inner cop woke up. “What about the Legion soldiers in the lab? How many did I hit? Did they have any useful information? Is Sam alright?” The kid had taken a knife to the chest. The more Cat talked, the more questions popped into her head. She had to stop wallowing in her new and unexpected bond. There was obviously a major sting operation planned; she had to start acting like a cop. “I just remembered. Paula Benton’s submissive was there. Carrie. She was part of the Legion.”

“We know, Cat.  She’s been arrested.” Tara’s fingers gently caressed Cat’s cheek. “And Sam will be fine. She’s down the hall in another room. Willow will fill you in on all that while we’re out.” She kissed Cat again, softer but with no less intensity. “Faith and I have to go, sweetie. Everyone’s waiting on us.” She completely ignored the rest of Cat’s questions.

“But what about…?” Cat protested.

Faith shook her head. “I told you she’d want to go, T,” she said before Cat could finish. Although Faith’s grin commiserated with Cat’s frustration at being sidelined, she continued firmly. “Stay put, tiger. The doc’s ain’t cleared you for duty.” _“Not to mention me and T aren’t putting you on the front lines until we have that talk.”_ Untold reluctance at the thought of talking filled the mental comment; yet Cat sensed Faith’s grim determination to sit and communicate honestly once this was over. “You got it, Cat? Don’t give Red or her Domme any grief while we’re gone.”

For someone who’d been afraid to Dominate, Faith had made huge strides. Cat’s chin dropped automatically. Showing her submission didn’t mean she managed to keep the resentment out of her “Yes, Faith.”  
  
“One last thing, Cat.” Tara picked up Cat’s right wrist and unbuckled the red cuff.  
  
Skin and eyes prickling, Cat held her breath. Breathing might break the moment, might end the dream. And, oh God, she wouldn’t be able to handle that.  
  
The gentleness Cat had come to expect from Tara was completely absent as she flung the cuff across the room. Her expression was fierce as she brought Cat’s wrist to her lips and kissed the sensitive skin. “The next time I collar you, it will be in front of our friends and family. I will _never_ collar you in haste or on a whim again, Cat. Until then this will have to do.”   
  
Faith moved forward, a black leather cuff in her hands. She wrapped it around Cat’s wrist and held it while Tara tightened the buckles. The leather was thick and new. Stiff. Two symbols had been recently burned into the top of the cuff.   
  
Cat didn’t care about stiff or new. A single tear streaked her face and was immediately wiped away by Tara’s thumb. Her hand cupped Cat’s cheek. “Detective Cat McLearen, this cuff is a symbol of our bond. Our pledge to you. Wear it with pride and dignity. Let it stand as a warning to all Dominants that you are claimed and under our protection until the formal collaring can be arranged.”  
  
No words made it past the knot in Cat’s throat.   
  
Luckily, Cat didn’t need to verbalize her response. Faith and Tara kissed her one last time and headed for the door. Of course, that wasn’t the end.

_“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,”_ _Faith advised. Her tone softened. “Love you, tiger.” And she did. Cat felt the wave of warmth_ _envelop her.  
  
It was closely followed by Tara’s mental kiss and her wry (and Uber Dominant), “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t approve of, Cat. There **is** a difference. We’ll keep in touch through the link as we can.” There was a sense that Tara would be keeping in touch regardless of what was happening to ensure Cat wasn’t pushing too hard.   
  
_Cat couldn’t decide how she felt about that. The fact someone cared - and would be ready to make Cat follow orders - filled a need that had been untended for so very long. It also grated against her pride.  
  
 _“We love you, Cat.”  
  
_ The joint reassurance from Faith and Tara helped. The room was too quiet, too cold, and too lonely without her bondmates.   
  
“Wow. That was... Well, wow.” Willow’s grin was electric.   
  
“Yeah.” Cat wasn’t deliberately abrupt. However, her heart and mind were with Faith and Tara. Being stuck here with Willow sucked. An echo of Faith’s laughter filled Cat’s mind. Flushing, Cat pulled out of the link. She had a job to do, too. Although she might not be on the front lines, Cat was far from helpless. Her mind focused. First things first, though. “Do you know where my clothes are?”  
  
An auburn eyebrow twitched. “Yes.”   
  
Willow was obviously going to be a problem. Time to play Bad Cop. “You have a choice. Help me find my clothes and get out of this room or don’t.” Cat’s smile wasn’t designed to provide comfort. “If you do, fantastic. If you don’t, I’ll walk out the door on my own. I’ll ask one of those nice nurses out there,” she said, referring to the two women who come running when the monitor beeped, “to find your Dominant. Janna, wasn’t it?”  
  
Frowning, Willow tried to follow Cat’s logic. “Why would you need Janna?”  
  
“There’s apparently something you haven’t told her.” Cat climbed out of bed and stretched.   
  
“You don’t know anything about that!” Willow said. “Unless...”  
  
Cat had her now. “Unless Faith told me?” Faith hadn’t, of course. Luckily, Willow didn’t know that. “I bet if I even _mentioned_ it, you’d be in trouble. What do you think she’d do to you? Hmmm?” She was almost ashamed of the blatant threat. Almost.   
  
All air of friendliness was absent when Willow muttered, “Your clothes are in the closet.”  
  
“Thanks.” Cat could afford to be pleasant now. She quickly changed into her jeans and blouse. Her gun and harness were absent. She’d have to track those down later. “So Sam first and then I need a computer and webcam.” If she had to be on the sidelines, Cat fully intended to help track down evidence and Legion members.

Willow remained stonily silent as she led Cat three doors farther down a well-lit, scrupulously clean hallway. Unlike most hospitals, there was no funereal silence. The hospital staff and what Cat assumed were visitors hurried by in groups or couples, talking and laughing in normal voices. In fact, Sam had a group of those visitors gathered around her bed.

“Ms. Rosenberg!” The youngest of the group turned beet red and shot to her feet. “We weren’t bothering Sam. Really. Doctor Hinduja said we could stay for a little while longer.”

Ignoring the byplay, Cat gently shoved her way up to the bed. “Sam.” The young Slayer was pale. However, she also appeared far more awake and aware than Cat would have believed possible. “How are you doing?”

That earned a smile from Sam. “I’m going to start collecting a dollar every time someone asks me that. I’ll be rich in no time.”

“In other words you’re ready to get out of this bed,” Cat said, relieved. “I just…When you went down…” There had been so much blood.

“Sam had a punctured lung, and the blade nicked a rib, too.” Willow had shooed the other girls out of the room. “Lucky for her, we had a team on site only a few minutes after she was stabbed. And,” she winked at Sam, “Slayers are hard to kill.”

Cat didn’t take that explanation at face value. “Sam?” She wanted confirmation from Sam now. She’d pester the doctors later.

Raising a hand, Sam drew an invisible “x” over her heart. “Cross my heart. But I’m not hoping to die. Willow’s right. Slayers are hard to kill. For one thing, the vamp had lousy aim. He missed my heart by a mile. Add in Slayer healing speed… I won’t be back on patrol tomorrow.” Unfortunately, her comical grimace indicated. “Next month’s a possibility.”

Relief made Cat lightheaded. “Good.” More than good. If anything had happened to Sam, she would never have forgiven herself.

The guilt was apparently universal. “I’ve already talked with Tara.” Sam shifted uneasily in the bed. “I’m sorry, Cat. You were hurt, too, and I was supposed to keep you safe. You were under my protection.”

“I was,” Cat agreed. Then she leaned closer to Sam, hands fisted on the mattress on either side of Sam’s waist. “Tara was wrong to do that.” She’d deal with the consequences of that statement when Faith and Tara came back and she told them the same thing in person. “I didn’t need you to protect me. I’m a cop, Sam. And an adult who’s been taking care of herself for a very long time.”

She could see Sam wasn’t on board with her. Dominants were crazy about taking care of submissives, even Dominants this young.

“Look,” she said, trying again. “On a normal night, you would have taken care of those vampires and we’d have been fine. We were set up. Tranquilizer guns? Humans who were helping the vampires? You couldn’t have known; you couldn’t have changed what happened. I’m _fine_ ,” Cat stressed. “Besides,” Cat added, “you protected me at the end. If you hadn’t picked a fight with the vamps in the lab, neither one of us would have made it out alive. You nearly died protecting me, Sam; I think that counts for a lot. Tara will, too, once she’s had time to calm down.”

“OK.” Tears glimmered for a second in Sam’s eyes before she blinked them away. “But I still should have…”

Cat cut her off. “Stop. Talking.”

For once, her command worked. Sam fell silent. Of course, her lips twitched and her shoulders trembled with laughter.

“I know. I suck at giving orders to Dominants.” With an overly dramatic sigh, Cat pushed away from the bed. “We’ll tell your friends it’s safe to come back inside. I’ve got to get back to the case. If you need anything…”

Sam nodded. “I’ll call the nearest nurse or unbonded submissive. I won’t call you.” She pointed to Cat’s wrist. “Congratulations.” Her voice grew mocking. “Tara isn’t your Domme? Really? ‘Cause that isn’t red, and I recognize the symbols. Witch and Slayer.”

Cat flushed and couldn’t hold back a sappy grin. “She wasn’t my Domme the first time you asked. Tara and Faith put this on me less than thirty minutes ago.” She let the sound of Sam’s laughter follow her out of the room before getting down to more serious business as she asked Willow, “Now, where’s the best place to set up an internet connection so I can help my team?”


	25. Chapter 25

Cat was still marveling at the “hospital” actually being a wing of the Boston Slayer Headquarters when Willow ushered her into the research room.

Then marvel turned to complete disbelief.

The research room resembled the launch room at NASA. Banks of big-screen LCD monitors lined the walls. Rows of tables filled with laptops, file folders, and busy people rounded out the image. “What is this place?” Cat had been hoping for a quiet corner and a laptop. A place to chat with Frost, who was no doubt coordinating the raid; a place to help with some of the hunt for evidence.

“Welcome to the heart of every Council HQ,” Willow answered. “This is our telecommunications center.” As she talked, she continued forward into the room. People who had been rushing along the narrow aisle between the tables jumped out of their way with mumbled apologies. Willow ignored it all.

Cat didn’t ignore any of it. She decided to pay very close attention to her escort. Willow must be very highly placed in the Council. People almost _bowed_ to Willow. Bow to a submissive? Some of the fawning masses were Dominants.

“You can work here.” An empty station magically appeared as two of the Council workers grabbed stacks of files and ran. Willow nodded in satisfaction. “I’ve arranged a personal log on for you.” At a wave of her hand, a man stepped forward and handed Cat a half sheet of paper. “Change the password once you’re logged on then you’ll be able to access the BPD mainframe. We use an encrypted system so all the data is secure. Just don’t surf porn sites. Giles and his cronies take a dim view of that on Council time.”

“Sure. Thanks. No porn.” Cat dropped into a chair and stared numbly at the screen for a minute. The action in the room continued without her. Willow moved a few feet away and commandeered her own workstation. When she slipped a Bluetooth earpiece in and began to issue orders in a firm, quiet tone, Cat woke up. She typed the user ID and password into the waiting boxes.

In seconds, she was online. Someone set an earpiece on the table next to Cat. Frost was already on the other end of the line. She could hear him talking to someone in the background through the earpiece. Other conversations sprang to life from speakers embedded in the tables. Cat easily identified Faith and Jane. Shocked, she matched the multiple conversations to the individual monitors on the wall. Each of the raid teams was wired for audio and video; Cat would be as close to _there_ as the images on the screen. “Frost, it’s Cat. I’m with Willow at the Council HQ. How can I help?” she announced in a voice low enough to be picked up by the Bluetooth and quiet enough not to disturb anyone else in the room.

“Hey, Cat!” Frost’s voice was loud and clear. “Tara called and said you wouldn’t make it. We should have known better.”

Tara. Cat smiled automatically. Wait. “Tara called?” Of course she had. She’d been clear in her expectation that Cat stay in the hospital bed. Her stomach churned with a mix of anticipation and unease. Cat wasn’t some unbonded submissive now. Tara was responsible for Cat’s behavior. Quickly changing the subject, Cat asked, “How does the case look? I assume we have arrest warrants for Parker and Stewart.”

“And the rest of the Legion founders as well.” Frost paused, and the line went completely silent. He was back a moment later. “Sorry, Cat. It looks like both teams are ready for the raid. I’ve got to go.”

Cat hated to be shut out. Hated it. “I’ll talk to you later.” She tapped the button on the earpiece to hang up the call and turned her attention the monitors.

“This is Rizzoli. Do we have a go on Stewart?” Jane asked. Her voice filled the left side of the room, and Cat watched as a camera swung in a dizzying arc and stopped right on Jane. She glared at the lens before looking away.

While Jane waited for someone to answer her, the images on the right-side monitors began moving. “Let’s go, boys and girls. We don’t need a warrant for our part.” It was Faith, with Tara at her side. Cat tore her eyes away from Jane, needing to make sure her bondmates made it through the fighting.

She could never have imagined what happened then, as Slayers swarmed around Faith and ran toward a darkened building. Bright, colored lights lit up the screen in blinding flashes. The illumination highlighted other, non-moving figures – one of which was Tara. Her voice sounded faintly through the shouts and battle cries of the Slayers, chanting. Cat couldn’t understand the words. She did, however, understand how powerful Tara was when the colored lights changed to fireballs on a scale much grander than the tiny one Tara had used in the warehouse bar.

“Holy shit,” Cat whispered. Tara was amazing. Cat felt a familiar tingle run along her nerves and sucked in a deep breath. This was not the time to get hot and bothered. Tara and Faith were nowhere near, and Cat was not about to make a display of herself in public again.

It was difficult to keep track of all of the raid teams as more and more of the monitors sprang to life. Jane’s crew stormed through Jonathan Stewart’s home during a party. Guests stared wide-eyed at the uniformed officers and detectives. The camera with Faith’s crew was on the move. It bounced and hopped around so badly that, at times, Cat had to tear her eyes away.

Other monitors shared in the shaky images in different locations: an office building, a bar, warehouses similar to the ones Cat had visited with Faith and Tara. Scenes involving humans generally ended with handcuffed suspects. Ones with Slayers included magical pyrotechnics and clouds of dust.

The Legion was going down. Cat noticed that no one in the Council room was cheering, though. They all remained attentive to the monitors and their computer screens. Cat got up and moved closer to Willow, who had yet to stop snapping orders.

“Team Three, we have activity ahead. Wait for magical reinforcements.” Willow’s fingers moved so rapidly over the keyboard they appeared to fly. “I know you’re ready to move in. I said to wait. We don’t need to lose anyone because you have a hero complex.”

Ouch. Cat felt sorry for whomever Willow had verbally shredded.

“Detective Frost, I’m sending a file we intercepted from Allison Parker’s office. It’s encrypted but we managed to break the code. It will help with warrants for bank accounts and more of the Legion’s business locations.” How did Willow keep track of everything? She seemed to jump from topic to topic without pause. Images and information flashed across her computer, and some kind of code scrolled on a separate monitor.

One of the men working on a laptop on the other side of the room held up a hand. “Willow! We need reinforcements for Team Seven. Two already down, and we’ve lost the video feed.”

Spinning around, Cat scanned the monitors. One of them was ominously black.

The announcement opened the floodgates on other trouble spots. Voices rose around the room. Men and women shouted status reports and more monitors went black or held images of slain or wounded Slayers and cops. The Legion was fighting back. Adding to the horror, gunfire exploded through the speakers as at least three monitors lit with muzzle flashes.

Cat couldn’t breathe. Fear ballooned in her chest. Faith and Tara were out there. The bond beckoned. She could reach for them and know they were fine in a heartbeat. But reaching for them could distract them at exactly the wrong moment. Cat fought the compulsion to check on her Dominants. Logic said if one of them had been injured, she would have already known. The bond was still there, still buzzing with the usual low-level hum.

Sinking into the chair nearest Willow, Cat kept her eyes glued to the monitor showing Faith’s team. They were deep inside the building now. It was dark, so dark the video was backlit with the strange neon green of night vision.

Everything else, every sound, every image faded into the background. Cat’s world played out on a single monitor. Faith’s voice came through the speakers occasionally, shouting orders or taunting whatever vampire she fought. Tara was harder to trace. She was rarely in camera view. There were no flashes of magic lighting the scene. It stayed dark and green-tinged.

Minutes turned to hours. Cat never moved. Nothing mattered except the monitor. She was so intent on the action, she didn’t realize that the fighting had stopped. Faith’s voice had settled into a raspy growl. “Let’s pack it up. Nothing left to kill here. Red, you need us anywhere else?”

“No, Faith. We have backup teams in position, and emergency medical crews are deployed.” Willow was relentlessly energetic. “Head back to headquarters. Transport is on the way. Do you have wounded?”

Wounded. Cat stiffened and held her breath until Faith answered. “No. We’re good. Nothing more than bumps or bruises.”

They were good. Slumping over the table, Cat realized she was drenched in sweat and shaking.

_“Gonna have to work on that faith, tiger. Me and T are one of the best teams the Council has.” Faith’s comment didn’t have the ring of a boast. It was simple fact. “Nothing’s keeping us from coming back to you.”_

_“I’ll be waiting,” Cat fired back._

A trickle of amusement colored the link. _“But not in bed like I told you,” Tara added._

“I’ll save that for when you get back here safe and sound.” Cat didn’t care that she’d spoken out loud. There were others doing the same throughout the room. Others who wore dazed, flushed expressions. She would bet each of them was bonded to a Slayer or witch in the field. “You can tuck me in, Ma’am.”

Tara’s surge of arousal and the sense of satisfaction was so strong Cat gasped. _“Count on it, Cat. Count on it.”_

Their voices dropped away, and Cat pressed her hands flat on the table. Faith and Tara were on their way back, but they weren’t there yet. “Willow, you have anything else I can do?”

Without glancing away from her computer, Willow responded, “I’ll email you a couple of files, Cat. Read through them and… well, just read them, OK?” There was something in her voice that put on Cat alert.

She strode back to her abandoned workstation, and logged back in. There was an email icon on the screen. Sure enough, when Cat opened the program, Willow’s email sat in the inbox. There were two attachments.

Cat clicked on the first one and skimmed the first few paragraphs before she realized what Willow had sent. Her eyes went back to the top of page.

_Lehane, Faith. Senior Slayer._

_Birth Date: 12/14/82_

_Status: Active_

_Slayer’s Council Potential Identification Team, Entry 3/5/1998_

_At 22:04 Zulu, the PIT received notification of Slayer Lehane’s activation. Lehane was not previously identified as a Potential. Notification beacons place Lehane in Boston, Massachusetts, United States. Retrieval Team Two has been dispatched._

_Watcher’s Diary of Diana Dormer, Entry 3/14/1998_

_On first evaluation, Faith presented as aggressive with episodes of over-sexualization. Faith deflected any questions regarding her family members or her life in Boston. Based on the Retrieval Team’s report as well as the medical report from Dr. Thaddeus Fletcher, I believe Faith suffered some type of childhood trauma or abuse._

Cat read the entire report in minutes and then read it again. It took three tries to close the file. No wonder Faith had never talked about her home life. It took all of Cat’s self control not to throw the laptop across the room in a fit of rage. How could Faith have hidden this? Cat had been her _submissive_. Then again…Why hadn’t Cat pushed for information? She’d known Faith hadn’t ever wanted to spend time at home. That Faith had often seemed uneasy and anxious. If Cat hadn’t been so selfish and self-absorbed… At least she had an answer about their bond now. It helped. A little.

“Are you alright?” A slender woman with long dark hair observed her closely.

“I’m fine.” Cat’s response was automatic and was met with the universal sign of Dominant disbelief, a raised eyebrow. “Really.”

The eyebrow didn’t lower.

“Janna!” Willow interrupted the stare down between Cat and the other woman. “When did you get back?” With a happy squeal, Willow threw herself into Janna’s arms. “I wanted to call you a million times.”

A smile lightened Janna’s stern expression. “Yet you didn’t. Such a good girl.” They kissed and Cat turned back to the laptop, not wanting to witness their reunion. Janna was made of sterner stuff, though. She set Willow down on the table next to Cat. “I recognize you from Willow’s description, Detective McLearen. Shouldn’t you be in the hospital wing?”

Fantastic. Would every Dominant hound Cat until she was back in a hospital bed? “I haven’t been cleared for the field,” Cat admitted. “I can still work on a computer, though. There’s no danger here.” Except the holes punched in her emotions from the reports Willow had emailed.

Leaning forward, Janna peered over Cat’s shoulder. “The raids are over. What are you…” She broke off and turned her attention to Willow. A Willow who studiously examined the toes of her chunky Merrell Wilderness Boots. “That looks like a classified personnel file, _drag_ _ă_.”

“Maybe.” Willow bit her lip before a flood of words flowed out. “She needed to know, _Doamn_ _ă._ Faith and Tara are my friends. Cat is their bondmate. They’ve been through enough without reliving their pasts. You know what I’m talking about…about things…what the past does to Faith. How she gets! And she’s worse when Tara talks about her father.”

She might have babbled on longer if Janna hadn’t kissed Willow to silence. “You are lucky I agree with you,” she said softly after pulling away.

“You do? I mean, you do.” Willow bounced happily on the table.

Janna laughed and took Willow’s hand. “Come. Let’s give the detective time to finish her reports. I would imagine the rest of the teams will be returning soon, and there won’t be a lot of time for reading after that.” Hand in hand, they wandered to the far side of the room, leaving Cat alone at the workstation.

Cat closed Faith’s file and opened the other.

_Maclay, Tara. Hereditary Witch_

_Birth Date: 10/16/80_

_Status: Active_

She had to wipe away tears as she scrolled through the information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite hours of research, I wasn’t able to locate any good information on the Romani language. The terms used by Willow and Janna are Romanian. Dragă means “sweetheart” and Doamnă means “Ma’am.”


	26. Chapter 26

Cat allowed Willow to delete the files, trusting Willow’s assertion that she knew _exactly_ how to make sure no one found out Cat had even seen them. Getting caught didn’t matter to Cat. Getting a handle on her emotions did. Faith and Tara were nearly back; they’d been reaching out to her for the past few minutes. So far, Cat had managed to avoid responding.

It wasn’t the best way to start life with her bondmates. However, the information in the files had done more than provide a glimpse into Tara and Faith’s past. Cat had been a detective too long not to read between the lines or see more than even Faith’s Watchers or Tara’s High Priestess had documented. And what she saw made her physically sick and mad enough to kill.

That was why Cat had to regain her control. She returned to her hospital room and curled up in the recliner. The lights were off; the glow from the hallway creeping under the door provided the only relief from the darkness.

Faith had been repeatedly raped as a child. She’d also been a prostitute. The report hadn’t said any of that. In fact, all of the Watchers and psychologists had very carefully skirted the issue. They’d used words such as “over-sexualized” and “signs of physical trauma.” Of course, they’d been quick to mention Faith’s anger issues and her problems with authority. The section discussing the Council’s plans to permanently deactivate Faith had been particularly brutal regarding Faith’s lack of respect for her position and the danger she posed to society. Cat was already planning her first visit to the Council’s International Headquarters in Scotland. She had a list of people she wanted to…talk to.

However, Cat had expected to find Faith’s past hard to accept. Faith had already admitted some of what was in the report. It was _Tara’s_ background that had hit Cat the hardest. It didn’t matter that Tara’s father and brother were in prison. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough to pay for the detailed medical reports outlining what they’d done to Tara as a child.

The door opened before Cat had managed to stifle her anger. “Cat?” Of course, it had to be Tara. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

Confession time. Cat stood and moved to the bed. She curled up against the headboard, hugging the single flat pillow. “We need to talk.” The steady thrum of desire through the link had grown cold. Her emotions must have affected Faith and Tara enough to counteract their PEBC symptoms. Rather than desire, now they felt only confusion and fear.

In silence, Faith and Tara entered the room and closed the door. They were locked in the darkened room with nowhere to hide and no one to interrupt.

Tara joined Cat on the bed. Despite the narrow mattress, she sat next to Cat and took her hand. Faith did her one better. She picked Cat up, sat down in the spot Cat had vacated, and relocated Cat to her lap. “We’re ready when you are, tiger.” It was a lie. Cat felt the tension in Faith’s body where it cradled her.

“Actually, I should have said _I_ have to talk to _you_. All you have to do is listen.” Turning off the lights had been a good idea, Cat decided. It was a little easier to start without having to see the worry in two pairs of eyes. She already felt it through the link; adding in those beautiful eyes would have frozen her in place. “I know you wanted to talk. To tell me you remembered the bond, Faith. To tell me about your pasts and let me get to know you beyond what we’ve already shared. You don’t have to do that.”

Tara’s fingers stroked over Cat’s palm. “Sweetie, there’s a lot…”

“No, Ma’am. There isn’t,” Cat disagreed. Her throat ached from forcing words past the knot lodged there. “I know it all. Everything. You don’t have to ever talk about it again.” It would be a relief not to hear Tara admit her father had once broken her arm and three of her ribs. And Cat planned to keep Faith from spiraling into a pit of self-hatred as she talked about her mother’s drug habits and the men who’d “visited” them.

Faith stiffened. “Cat, what did you do?”

Cat wasn’t throwing Willow under the bus. “I saw your personnel files.” She kept the explanation simple. “And I put the pieces together.” A million-piece puzzle she’d wanted to destroy as the last piece went into place.

“Oh.” Faith’s voice was tiny, completely unrecognizable. Shame, anger, and fear filled the link.

Fear Cat would repudiate the bond and run away. “Are you crazy?” Cat couldn’t find a more polite way to phrase her question. “Why would I leave? You were a kid, Faith. So was Tara. I’d like to kill your families. Absolutely. And I work in Southie. One call and I can have every beat cop in C6 dragging your bitch of a mother out of her drug slum to face child abuse charges. And I’m thinking a change in cellmate assignment for Tara’s family would do the trick. Maura’s got enough pull to make that happen all the way in Oklahoma.”

Neither of Cat’s bondmates responded. Their silence helped Cat pull her thoughts and emotions together. It gave her the opportunity to study the link and absorb what Faith and Tara were feeling.

Those feelings broke Cat’s heart and reinforced her determination to continue leading this discussion.

“I hated you for a long time, Faith.” Cat released Tara’s hand long enough to find Faith’s arms and pull them tightly around her. Reclaiming Tara’s hand, she kept talking. “For all the reasons I spewed out in the mall. But I hated myself more. I knew there was something wrong when we were kids. You never talked about anything personal. It was all about me. Teaching me to behave. Asking about my day and my family.”

One painful admission at a time, Cat told Faith and Tara about her childhood. From her bond with Faith (so Tara would know what they’d had), to her time at the mental hospital. Her break for freedom and the daily struggle to keep going. To live alone. Cat forced herself to be honest the way she’d never done with Doctor Blaylock.

“When I realized you didn’t remember me, Faith, I thought I’d die.” The back of Cat’s shirt had long since become soaked with Faith’s tears. And there was a steady stream of tears landing on the hand Tara held in a vice grip. “And that made me blame you even more. And Tara? Tara was responsible for everything.” Cat sensed their surprise when she laughed. “I was an idiot. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. You didn’t leave me on purpose, and Tara didn’t somehow steal you away from me. Did you know the day our bond broke was the day you got Called, Faith? Right down to the minute.

“I should have realized when Sam told me about Slayers bonding later in life. With the high mortality rate for newly Chosen Slayers, Fate must think it’s better to wait. Why create a swarm of Forsaken? Another few years gives the new Slayers a chance to hone their skills, increase their chances of survival. And I’m sure the stresses of being Chosen can alter personalities.” Cat had inferred that from the Watchers’ entries in Faith’s file.

Tara interrupted for the first time. “I knew about your bond with Faith, Cat. I’ve always known.”

“What the fuck?” Faith beat Cat in responding.

“Shh, sweetie. It’s not like that,” Tara said softly. “You talk in your sleep sometimes. When your ‘little cat’ kept popping up, I talked to Mr. Giles off the record. He said it was a possibility that you’d been bonded before but the Council didn’t have any information because you hadn’t been identified as a Potential. That first night, when Cat walked in, I saw the way she reacted. Her expression when she saw you, and I knew.” A tiny smile lightened her expression. “I know a little about partially formed bonds,” she told Faith cryptically. “Cat showed all the signs.”

One day, when this conversation was a distant memory, Cat would ask Tara to explain those last couple comments. Until then, she replayed every minute of time she’d spent with either Faith or Tara since meeting them in the squad room. If Tara had known, so many things made sense. “You kept throwing me and Faith together, didn’t you?”

Rather than answering verbally, Tara lifted their joined hands and kissed each of Cat’s knuckles softly.

“What were you going to do if I’d remembered, T?” Faith continued to impress Cat with her interrogation skills. It was a brutal question.

Tara never flinched. “I don’t know.” Somehow, Cat knew she was lying. “When you didn’t, I thought…What about adding an unbonded third? Cat was beautiful, and I knew she loved you. When we went to Tinsale’s office, and I collared her, it felt right. Being with her, dominating her, was natural. And you, my Slayer, you felt that too, didn’t you, the night Cat called us for help?”

“Yes,” Faith whispered. “I wasn’t scared anymore. Cat was ours, and I trusted you both to tell me if I crossed a line.”

Turning her head from side to side, Cat wiped her face on the shoulders of her shirt. “Tell us everything, Ma’am. You had a plan if Faith remembered.” They’d come too far to back away from the truth.

“She was going to walk away, little cat.” Faith answered for Tara with no hesitation. “The reports you read don’t tell it all. T has a thing about not being good enough and trying to take care of everyone but herself. Right, T? Cat was my first bond. It musta been a good bond if I remembered it in my sleep, and Cat was hurting. She was a Red Cuff and regaining her bond would keep her from hurting more. If you left, I’d be OK because I had Cat.”

“That’s stupid!” Cat broke their positions. Wiggling out of Faith’s arms, she climbed to her knees and turned until she straddled Tara’s hips. “That’s absolutely the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. I know what a broken bond feels like. You’d do that to Faith? Having me would have been like putting a Band-aid over a gunshot wound.” Cat didn’t even mention what Tara would have done to herself. Cat was smart enough to know Tara hadn’t cared about her own feelings. It was all about taking care of Faith and Cat.

Tara’s regret and apology reached through the link. _“I’m sorry, girls. Now that I can feel Cat’s pain from the original bond and she’s talked about her life… You are right. I was stupid. I love you, my Slayer, and I have always wanted what was best for you.”_

_“Lucky for us that Fate’s a bitch with a heart.” Faith laughed. “She made us work for it, but we got what we’ve all wanted and needed now. The three of us together.”_

For someone who pretended to be so hard and mean, Faith was a complete marshmallow inside.

_“You better keep that to yourself, tiger, or we’re gonna have a long discussion,” Faith warned._

Grinning madly, Cat replied, “Yes, Faith.”

Tara pulled Cat down until she lay between her and Faith. It was a tight fit. One wrong move and at least one of them would end up on the floor. It didn’t matter. Cat reveled in the feel of her Dominants wrapped around her, and Tara and Faith’s enjoyment filled her mind.

***

“When are you back on full duty?” Jane asked. She ignored Maura’s huff of protest at the question and waited impatiently for Cat to answer.

Cat took her time. She had more important things to worry about today. Going back to full-time status wasn’t even on the list of priorities. She peered into the mirror and tugged at the neckline of her white tunic. It didn’t fit right despite the numerous fitting sessions. Scowling, Cat tried to get it to lie in exactly the right spot. “Next month, probably,” she mumbled distractedly. “Faith and Tara officially move in a couple of weeks. We’ll be in Cleveland until then. And Internal Affairs is taking its sweet time investigating the shooting in the lab. I killed three people. I guess they don’t care I was about to die.”

Maura walked behind Cat and gently moved her hands out of the way. “Leave it alone, Cat. You look beautiful, and the tunic is perfect.”

It wasn’t. Cat shifted her weight. Her hair was already slipping out of its French braid. Tendrils curled wildly along her neck and over her ears. She reached for them – and found Maura’s hands there first. “I’ve got it. Stand still.”

“IA. Bunch of assholes who couldn’t find a clue with both hands. I’ll talk to Cavanaugh. You helped break the biggest serial murder case since the Boston Strangler. Not to mention Frost misses you at the office. We could use your help untangling more of the Legion mess.” Jane began pacing the back of the dressing room. “I got a call from the District Attorney yesterday. Did you know Carrie Atherton is talking? Her lawyer cut a deal.”

“Really?” Cat _hadn’t_ heard. She’d been too busy attending Basic Slayer classes with a crew of humorless instructors at the Slayers Council’s Boston Headquarters. “What did she have to say? Anything about the murders? Or the reason Stewart started the Legion in the first place?” All of their digging had produced few answers but generated more questions. And they couldn’t exactly question Master Phillip or his vampires. They were so much dust blowing through Boston after the raid.

Tugging on Cat’s hair kept her from turning to face Jane. Maura continued to redo the braid; Cat had to make do with Jane’s image in the mirror.

“She’s naming names, including her own father. Your host for that Legion training session, Jason Anders.” Jane met the Cat’s eyes in her reflection. “Apparently her mother died when Carrie was a child but Anders never reported it. He had enough money and influence to convince everyone his submissive spent all of her time traveling the world. Carrie used her mother’s surname – which we missed. They reunited when Anders started climbing though the ranks of the Legion. They were grooming Paula to join them until she got cold feet.”

“And they killed her.” Cat marveled at the magic Maura had done with her hair. Not a single strand was out of place and even the tunic suddenly fit perfectly.  “Wow!”

Maura laughed softly. “I said you were beautiful. Tara and Faith will be awestruck.”

“Not to mention Cat doesn’t look ready to hyperventilate anymore.” Jane joined Maura behind Cat. “A little shop talk to help with nerves. You should write a paper on it, Maura. You’d be even more famous than you are now.”

“Thank you both,” Cat told them. She took one last look in the mirror. “I’m ready now.” Picking up the leather leash on a side table, she turned to face Maura and Jane.

The trip across the hall was short. A few steps at most.

They took forever, and Cat’s legs trembled the entire way. When Jane opened the heavy door to the Conservatory, only Maura’s hand on Cat’s back kept her moving forward. “Don’t be afraid, Cat.” Maura gave one last slight push.

Cat barely glanced at the people clustered in the room. Her attention immediately went to Tara and Faith where they stood near the room’s fireplace. They were amazing. She automatically reached for them through the link before remembering. Not yet. She had to stay inside her own mind until after the ceremony. It was easier to manage when Cat concentrated on her Dominants. Faith exuded danger in the formal black leather tunic and pants of the Slayers Council. Tara took Cat’s breath away. Her linen robes perfectly matched her eyes.

She wasn’t going to embarrass them by forgetting the rules for the ceremony. Cat would have plenty of opportunity to share her thoughts and emotions once they’d satisfied tradition.

Pacing forward, Cat stopped at the leading edge of an ornate Turkish rug on the floor. Cat heard the sound of the guests being seated. She kept her eyes ahead, though. The guests were only window dressing today. When the room quieted, a bell pealed.

“This is Cat, a submissive.” Maura’s voice was sure and clear. “She is uncollared and free to choose her own future.”

The words were a formality. This entire ceremony was a formality. Cat chafed at the process.

A second bell rang. Faith and Tara stepped forward, and Cat noticed that each carried a riding crop. Chairs scraped the floor and more men and women strode forward. They, too, held the tools of a Dominant, crops and the occasional dressage whip. A line formed at the front of the room.

Show time.

Leash gripped tightly in both hands, Cat started with the Dominant farthest to her right. Korsak winked and did a very poor job hiding his grin. Cat paused and met his eyes. Tara had asked for this ceremony. That meant Cat had to do her part correctly. She stood in front of Korsak for a long moment, as if considering his worth to be her Dominant. He stilled and his gaze grew more sober and commanding.

With a slight shake of her head, Cat took two steps to her left and paused again. It was much harder to meet this woman’s eyes. Buffy, Faith’s best friend. She held Cat frozen in place effortlessly. Her gaze tested Cat, measured her worth as a submissive.

It was a relief when Buffy’s eyes flickered to the side. Cat was dismissed, and she used the opportunity to totter sideways in front of Janna. Despite her clearly serious demeanor, Janna was a breath of fresh air after Buffy. Cat managed to regain her composure before moving in front of Sam. The young Dominant was fully recovered. None of their shared laughter and teasing showed as she calmly met Cat’s eyes. Cat nodded respectfully before moving on.

Cat knew she was getting closer to the end now. The muted buzz through the link had her nearly giddy. She held onto her control with a mental grip reminiscent to the one she had on the leash.

Only two more Dominants separated her from Faith and Tara. In their own way, though, they were more frightening than Buffy because they were Tara’s oldest friends. She needed to impress them. Cat sucked in a deep breath and stopped in front of Brad.

Bleached blond hair and a surfboard tie-tack didn’t lessen Brad’s commanding gaze. Cat shivered and locked her knees. He examined Cat so closely her knees shook. His unruffled calm and cool control reminded Cat of Tara.

Swallowing audibly, Cat stumbled in front of Trish and froze as Trish raised her riding crop. It settled gently beneath Cat’s chin and Trish examined Cat like a piece of merchandise. Or a prospective submissive. Cat’s cheeks burned and, without the crop, her head would have bowed. Trish noticed. Her eyes hardened. She stepped closer and the tip of the crop slid downward in a soft caress.

Pressure exploded in Cat’s mind as the temporary barrier to the link threatened to break. Cat saw Tara turn toward Trish.

Trish stepped away. The crop left Cat’s throat. A tiny smirk prefaced her wink at Cat. It was a reminder that none of the people here were really trying to challenge her bond. They were playing a part, and that part included giving Cat the chance to show that Faith and Tara were her choices.

Trish had simply decided to put on a show. She was crazy, Cat decided, before Trish completely slipped from her mind.

Only Faith and Tara remained in the line. Both women looked remote and stern when Cat paused in front of them. Cat stood there and forced herself to meet their eyes. The need to kneel was crippling – but not yet part of the ceremony. Faith held Cat’s gaze and Cat trembled at the silent promise there. Tara’s eyes reached into Cat’s soul. She’d never be able to hide from those eyes; they’d see everything Cat was.

That was the way it was supposed to be. “Lady Tara, Lady Faith, I offer you this leash.” Cat extended her hands, leash resting on her open palms. “I seek your protection, your care, and your guidance. It is my desire to belong to you and to follow where you might lead me.”

Faith and Tara each placed a hand on the leash. In easy harmony, they replied, “We accept this leash as a symbol of your offer. In return, we give you what you have asked: our protection, our care, and our guidance. From this day, you belong to us and we will do all within our power to guide you safely through our life journey.”

Reaching to the mantel behind, Faith picked up a wooden box. For the first time, Cat noticed the chinks in Faith’s manner. Her fingers were so unsteady the lid of the box rattled as it slid open to reveal a platinum collar matching the one Faith wore and a platinum wrist cuff. She extended the box to Tara.

“Kneel, Cat,” Tara requested.

Obedience was natural and right. Cat dropped gracefully to the floor but kept her chin raised. 

“Will you accept this symbol of our ownership to wear as a sign of our bond to us and to others on our life journey?” Tara held out the collar for Cat to see.

The last time she’d contemplated Tara’s collar, nothing had felt right. It had been an act. A means to an end. Cat had profaned the pure act of submission represented by the collar.

There was no act now. “Lady Tara, Lady Faith, I kneel as a sign of my submission to you and my acceptance of this symbol of your ownership of me. I will wear it proudly for all of my days, Ma’am.”

The collar slid around Cat’s bare neck, and she welcomed the cool weight. Her breath rushed out in time with the snick of the lock. “You now belong to us,” Tara said. The link opened wide, rocking Cat with twin surges of pride, love, and desire.

“Yes, Mistress.” Cat’s eyes sought the floor and her chin dropped. She settled into position and waited for the ceremony to draw to a close. Although she would participate in what happened next, she was no longer Cat the Individual. Cat was now a collared submissive. Her actions would be directed by Tara and Faith.

There was a rustle of paper, and Tara addressed the room. “We offer for your review the conditions of service and care of this joining. We swear before you all that we will always put Cat’s best interests foremost in our dominance. She belongs to us, and is now part of us, body and soul.” The words grew cold as Tara asked, “Would anyone present care to examine this contract or offer challenge for this submissive?”

No one moved. Of course they didn’t. They’d invited only friends and family. It didn’t stop Cat from holding her breath as Tara waited for a response.

“As there are no objections or challenges, this contract shall become as law until such time as we shall choose to alter it.” There was a pause, and Cat knew Faith and Tara were signing the contract.

Seconds later, Tara tapped Cat’s shoulder and she looked up just enough to see Faith holding the contract out and steady. Taking the pen from Tara’s hand, Cat signed the contract as well.

The collar around her neck warmed, and the heat spread through her entire body. They were almost finished now. She held tight to her Dominants through the link and returned her gaze to the floor.

“Our union requires two changes in status today,” Tara told their guests. “As Cat has surrendered her freedom to us, so now must Faith take on the mantle of Dominance in matters concerning our new submissive. To this end, I offer Faith the mark of a Dominant. She will continue to wear my collar and answer to me in all other things.”

Cat didn’t look up to watch. She’d seen the cuff Tara had purchased for Faith.

When Faith and Tara moved closer, their feet in view, Cat straightened until her spine resembled an iron rod.  Tara’s fingers brushed her neck and the collar grew heavier as she snapped the leash into place.

Bending forward smoothly (Cat had practiced the move for hours), Cat pressed her lips to first Faith’s polished combat boots and then to Tara’s sandal-clad feet. She remained in that position until Tara tugged on the leash. Cat surrendered to the Dominance implicit in the tug and immediately returned to an upright kneel.

_“I’m yours, Ma’am and Faith.”_ Cat wanted the guests to disappear. She needed to show her submission through whatever service her Dominants demanded.

Fingers cupped Cat’s chin and lifted. “We know,” Faith whispered with a wicked grin before she kissed Cat. Tara completed the ceremony with her own kiss.

The Conservatory echoed as the bells mounted in the building’s tower announced their bonding to the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who followed this fic from beginning to end. And a very special call out to those who took the time to comment and leave kudos. Your encouragement pushed me to finish the story. Although this it the final chapter of Broken Bonds, it is not the last you'll see of the new triad. 
> 
> I've recently completed the Faith/Tara back story, Forging Bonds. If you can remain patient and give me a few months (January 2016, probably) I hope to begin posting the final fic in the Bondsverse arc.


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